


Stars, Hide Your Fires

by Caledfwlch (orphan_account)



Series: (i dont kiss) lizards [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Borderline Personality Disorder, Child Abuse, F/F, Gay Character, Homophobia, Jewish Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Mentally Ill Character(s), Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Underage Sex, Neurodivergent Character(s), Nonbinary Character, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Queerplatonic Relationships, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6003901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Caledfwlch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We projected 80% of our problems onto founding fathers and this came out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you nervous?”

George clenched his fists on the steering wheel, staring pointedly ahead. His teeth ground together. “We could decline. I have a syllabus to edit.”

Martha’s hand on his shoulder gentled him. “Me, too.”

He let out a soft laugh, distractedly kissing her cheek. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“We weren’t sure about LaFayette, and they’ve turned out just fine. All our kids have.” Her dark, almond-shaped eyes crinkled at the corners. “This one will be no different.”

George tried to convince himself of that as he stared blankly at the paperwork in his hands, the words burned behind his retinas. Finally, he breathed again and righted himself. “Into battle.”

—

It was ten in the morning and John Laurens was already drunk.

The lack of sobriety at such an early hour would normally be pretty embarrassing, but alas, there was a significant lack of sobriety going on and he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He splashed some water onto his face, popped a mint into his mouth, placed the now empty thermos bottle into his backpack, and stretched. He’d be hung-over by lunch break, but now was not the time to worry about that. Now was not the time to worry about anything.

His next period was history. Normally he’d feel pretty bad about showing up drunk to Washington’s class, and there was no doubt in his pleasantly fuzzy mind that he’d feel absolutely horrible about it later, but right now he just slid into his chair, opened a random notebook and started doodling in the margin. The room slowly started filling out.

Martha Manning flicked at his shoulder as she walked past. He beamed up at her, and she scowled.

“Shooooosh,” he whispered; her scowl deepened.

“John.”

“Martha.”

“John.”

Sally Hemings was calling her over. She sighed, gave John another stern glance, and then hurried on. John returned to his doodling. He only looked up when the room suddenly went quiet. George Washington stood at the front, a barely detectable smile on his face. Someone else was there with him, almost a full foot shorter. John sat up, interest spiked.

“We have a new student— would you…” He paused. The new kid’s eyes— holy shit, were they were dark— darted around the room, focused on the floor. His posture straightened.

“My name is Alexander Hamilton.” His eyes flew up to face the room very briefly. “Hello.” His posture deflated. He peeked up at Washington, who nodded, gestured for him to take a seat. John found himself following his progress with undivided attention.

Alexander’s eyes were really something. His fingers kept picking at his ponytail (almost as long as Eliza’s! Although he didn’t seem to put as much time into hair care) and his whole posture screamed Nervous, yet his eyes remained focused— John couldn’t find the right word—

They were looking at him. Alex was looking at him. John felt his face flush, embarrassed even in his semi-drunk haze, and forced his eyes back to the notebook. The half-finished turtle drawn in the notebook corner seemed to be mocking him.

—

Alexander surveyed the room with scrutiny, eyes wide. He picked up all the small details he could: the stuffed bookshelf, the thick-glassed windows. He shoved his hands into his pockets while he passed the slouching boy who had been staring at him. He’d probably figured it out already. Alex felt a nervous laugh start to bubble, squashed it down. He sat awkwardly in the back, shifting with frustration at his weak eyes.

Alex hadn’t been to school in so long, he’d forgotten. Almost four years. The shiny desks and bright lighting felt alien to him, the uniformity of the building almost disturbing. Even the notebook he pulled out of his backpack: smooth, crisp— he lifted it— still smelled laminated and new. The strangeness teetered between good and bad. He disliked the unlabeled space it created.

Instead, he directed his focus on Washington, who was clearing his throat at the head of the class. He still used an old-fashioned blackboard, and the chalk grated and crumbled on it when he wrote: _U. S. History_. “I trust you’ve all done your summer reading.”

Alex was already pulling it out. _A People's History of the United States_. He traced over the letters to ground himself. He tapped his fingers as Washington provided a summary, waiting desperately for a question on the material he already knew.

He found himself distracted by the boy who had looked at him earlier. He was leaning back, head tilted lazily, one hand over his mouth. He felt something twist inside himself at the sight of his fawn’s neck.

Oh, there was something gorgeous about him. The delicate masculinity that roughened his sun-kissed skin and dark brown curls, the curve of his neck gentle but somehow screaming irrevocably _boy_. Alexander gazed at him twist a lock of his hair in his finger; he found himself doing the same.

What he wouldn’t give to have shoulders like that.

—

“How was your first day of school?”

Alex sat, slammed shut the van’s door, and threw hair out of his face in one great whirl. “Dazzling,” he exclaimed, hugging his bulging backpack between his knees. “Simply dazzling.”

Washington gently smiled, pulling out from the school’s parking lot with care. “You’re enjoying your courses, I see.”

 “Yes!” Alex rummaged in his bag, scarcely remembering to buckle his seatbelt in his excitement but careful not to let his papers spill over to Washington’s side. “I’ll admit, I’m a little dissatisfied, the Macroeconomics course is lagging— but, oh! There was a point you mentioned today, I wanted to discuss—“

“Later.”

“But sir, I really think—“

“Just wait, I’m sure you can hold it in until my headache’s gone away.”

Alex bit his cheek. “Sorry, sir.”

“How about your classmates? Did you meet anyone you like?”

“I was… busy.” Alex hugged his bag a little tighter, back finally settling into the passenger seat. “The reading I was looking over, I noticed something odd during lunch—“

“Please.” Washington grit his teeth, keeping his eyes glued to the road. “I know you’re excited about your studies, but your relationships matter as well.”

Alexander bristled. “I do not appreciate being interrupted.” Struggling to keep his breathing steady, he challenged, “What? If I don’t make enough friends to fit some quota, I’ll be ejected unceremoniously to my former residence?”

“That’s not what I said.”

He slumped against the window. Twisting a strand of his hair around his pinky finger, he thought, _Maybe not, but that’s what they mean._ “I apologize, sir.”

“You don’t need to keep calling me that. Just ‘George’ is all right.”

“Yes… George.” The name felt unfamiliar and embarrassing on his tongue. Suddenly, a pang of homesickness lodged in Alex’s throat.

“I can’t force you to make friends,” the man continued, a little more softly, “but at least try to find someone you like.”

“Fine.” Fizzled out, he was too tired to argue. He hummed for the chance to read again when they returned home, cursing his tendency to carsickness not for the first time.

Dinner was quiet. Alex suppressed the overwhelming urge to let spill the electric thoughts that tangled like a ball of yarn in his brain. He sought feverishly for noises: the low vibrating of the laundry in the basement, the hissing heater, the buzz of the lights above. Little things that made the tidy kitchen and home-cooked meal a little more tolerable. He excused himself early and strained to ignore the worrying looks that followed him.

His room ached with cleanliness. Try as he might, Alex could find no trace of the last foster kid the Washingtons had taken in, aside from the photographs they kept downstairs. He slapped his palm experimentally on the blank, plaster wall. It didn’t break.

He could practically feel his fingers itching with the need to study something, anything. He’d already finished his (lacking) homework as soon as he’d gotten home. What could he do?

 _Of course._ Tentatively, he re-opened the bedroom door and listened. He could hear the Washingtons’ murmurs floating up the stairs, along with the scraping of plates. He snuck almost painfully into Mr. Washington’s study, next to the room Alex slept in.

Everything was warm in this room. Wide-eyed and exhilarated, Alex browsed through the tightly packed rows of history books. He recognized the ones he’d already devoured with pleasure akin to friendship. Finally, he extracted an in-depth history of the war of 1812, a collection of Hobbes’ essays, and (just for fun) something entitled _Street Ivrit: Conversational Hebrew for the Cool and Hip._

Upon Alexander’s return to the hallway, he caught a few words of the Washingtons' conversation. He warily paused at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop.

“… club? How about sports?”

“Martha, you know he can’t be on a sports team.”

“Why not?”

“Look, the dressing rooms alone…. What he needs is an intellectual environment. Something stimulating, with kids up to his speed.”

“What he needs is a normal life!”

Alex dug his thumbnail into his index finger.

“You don’t know what he needs; neither of us do.”

Martha’s usually soft voice grew shrill. “You act like we’ve never raised a child before!” 

“You simply cannot pretend that Alexander is LaFayette.”

“I know, but—“

“Just give it time.”

The sound of someone sitting. Silence. Then: “I’m so frightened for him, George.”

“I know.”

Alex’s fists hurt, they were clenched so tightly. He resisted the urge to bang shut the door on the way back into “his” room. He slammed his fists into his thighs. Great, that was just great. Of course he’d be a burden on them. He needed to fucking graduate.

Alex hurriedly huddled himself into his desk in the corner, stuck a highlighter between his teeth, and began reading.

The bloodiest parts of a war are always the easiest to find— not to mention the most enthralling. Alex easily became absorbed in the war, its messy twists and turns. Love flourished in his chest at the crystalline descriptions of the weapons, the tactics.

He read long after Mr. Washington’s unbearably paternal and guarded “good night,” sitting hunched in darkness with nothing but a lamp and a blanket to warm him. Time disappeared. His heart raced.

A gasp behind him. Alex whirled around. Nothing there. Nothing but uneasily swirling darkness. He blinked, and turned back around to check the clock. Neon numbers blinked back at him _1:21_. He rubbed his sore eyes. He could keep reading for a few minutes longer….

Silhouette flashed at the corner of his eye. Nope, okay. Time to stop. He reluctantly stuck a bookmark in his place and shuffled to bed. He tore off his shirt and his binder, and immediately felt his bones creak in relief as he stretched and breathed. The blankets were so warm, and his mind so tired, sleep felt almost safe.

—

Eliza was wearing a faded denim dress that reached just past her calves. Her socks had ruffles, her shoes shiny and polished. She looked very nicely put together; she always did. John frowned at his own pair of ratty converse, rubbed them together.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” He returned her bright smile, leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. “Slept well?”

“Yes, thank you.” An odd look flashed in her eyes as he took a step back. “You look tired.”

He rubbed at the circles he knew to be under his eyes- he had slept through most of yesterday but drank virtually no water and boy, his body was not in a forgiving mood right now. “I’m fine, peacup.”

She giggled into her hand, shoved at him. “That nickname makes no sense.”

“I know, it’s great.” He started down the corridor, and she followed. “Ang gave no homework for today’s MSU meeting, right?”

“Actually-“

He groaned- she laughed again.

“I’m sure you can do an essay for extra credit.”

“Can’t even tell if you’re joking right now.”

They paused in front of her classroom- she tugged at his sleeve, pulled him to the side.

“Can we-“ She paused, bit on her lip. He frowned.

“Everything okay?”

She was avoiding his eyes. There was a pregnant pause.

“’Liza?”

“No, no- yes.” She laughed- it felt forced. “Sorry- everything is okay.”

“Hey, if-“

“Lovebirds at 8 o’clock, check it out!” Mulligan’s voice made him jump a little- the duo was walking down the corridor, Hercules’ arm thrown around LaFayette’s shoulder. “Leave some room for Jesus, yo!”

“There’s enough room for a double-decker between them, ma cherie.” LaFayette muttered, sending them an apologetic smile. John waved at them- Mulligan blew him an exaggerated kiss.

He turned back to Eliza- her face was slightly flushed, but she was laughing.

“They’re cute.” She noted, glanced up at him. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” There was something going on, something he’d eventually have to approach, probably- he scanned his memory for any fuck-ups on his part but couldn’t come up with anything out of the ordinary.

“Platonic relationships are really nice.” Her words sounded scripted. He scowled.

“Is that what the homework was about?”

She laughed- forced, again. “No.”

There was another pause. Eliza was, once again, avoiding his eyes. He chewed on his lip- was it about drinking in school? Had he been too rude to Maria yesterday?

“Should I expect a feral Angelica Schuyler on my tail any time soon?” He asked, attempting to lighten the mood. She looked up, a bit surprised.

“Oh- no.” A squint, an upwards turn of her lip. “Or so I think?”

“Guess we’ll see.” He grinned, relieved by the change in atmosphere. He was almost physically aching for the Grey Goose he’d decided against taking to school. “I should probably get going.”

She checked her wristwatch, nodded. “Oh, yes, you should hurry.” Her lips were soft as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, squeezed his hand. He smiled back, somewhat awkwardly.

“See you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch.”

 

—

Alexander tightened his grip on his backpack’s straps and focused on the texture. _They’ll hate you_. All day, the phrase had rang in his head like bells. He breathed. If they were going to hate him, he might as well go out with a bang. He’d show Washington. He pushed his way in.

The classroom was yellow and light-filled. It had a handful of people— less than he’d thought. Some sitting, some sprawled, a couple in the back. One girl hopped down from the would-be teacher’s desk and started his way. He braced himself.

“Hey, there.” She had shining white teeth and warm, dark skin. Her hair stood up in little, red spikes and glittering hoop earrings dangled elegantly from her ears. “I’m Angelica Schuyler. You new here?”

“Yes.” He gulped. She was so tall. “New to the school, actually. I’m eager to join extracurriculars.”

She chuckled. “All right, then. There, just write your name on one of those stickers by the door. Put your pronouns, too, no whining.”

Alex turned to the thick stack of stickers and gripped the fat sharpie beside it in his hand. He signed his name in cursive, and wrote “HE/HIM” in big, block letters. He prayed no one would question his verdict.

Angelica had perched carelessly again on the desk. She swung one high-heeled foot. “So… Alexander? Suppose I should introduce you, huh?” She smiled again. She looked bright and fast as starlight. “This is my sister, Eliza,” she started as Alex neared her.

The girl sitting in a desk closest to Angelica’s looked up from her phone, smiled, and waved. Her face was round, her movements much gentler than her sister’s. Alex cautiously waved back.

“And next to her, Peggy—“

“Hey!” A kid with freckles, close-cropped curls, and black-painted lips waved enthusiastically.

“If you don’t respect xyr pronouns, I’ll punch you. Nothing personal.”

“Oh, there will be no trouble, I assure you.” Alex absorbed the rest of the room. He started. “In the back— he’s in my class,” he whispered.

“Who, that loser on his phone? That’s John Laurens.”

“I can hear you,” the slouching boy replied, not missing a beat of typing.

A striking person with a bushy ponytail and winged eyeliner gasped in mock astonishment. “Yes, you! Stop talking such shit!” Alex immediately recognized the French accent and bubbled. Less quickly, he put the features together: the last child the Washingtons had taken in.

“And that’s Lafayette, and their other cohort, Mulligan.”

“Yo!” A sturdy, black boy paused in his petting of Lafayette’s hair to wave.

Angelica bent close to his ear. “That cabal is unmanageable,” she murmured, a smile on her breath. Alex tingled. “I deserve a damned prize for trying to get them under control. And—“ She straightened proudly— “That’s my girl next to the bookshelf. Maria, meet this new kid!”

A stunningly gorgeous girl (Alex almost wanted to say “woman”) glanced up from under her eyelashes. Half her head was shaven, and the other half let dark locks of hair tumble over her shoulder. “Hi, there,” she drawled.

“Hey.” Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Angelica raised her knee and rested her cheek on it, clearly feeling the same.

“So!” Alex swallowed and turned back to her. “I hear you’re the founder of this group? I’d be interested to know how you got started.”

She sighed. “Well, we used to have the Black Student Union, where I was president, and a Latino Union. But then the school decided to mix them into Union for Students of Color because of ‘time constraints.’” She rolled her eyes, using her fingers as quotations. “And then, since why the hell not, they stuck it in with the GSA— low budget, puh- _lease_ — so now we got MSU, Minority Student Union. Which is all fine and dandy for those who were in both, such as myself, but it can get inconvenient.”

“I can see how that would be an issue!” He nodded. “One cannot simply assume that all axes of liberation are the same, the needs of all communities must be addressed, and though I can understand the decision on an administrative level, this particular union seems at first inefficient. I hope I can help you find a way to unite both groups’ common interests towards an impactful goal. After all, our histories are so closely overlapped. Maybe this can create discussion for such things.”

Angelica raised her eyebrows at him.

He opened his mouth again— shut it.

“I agree,” she finally replied. Alex’s nose grew hot. “I synthesize. You heard of Assatto Saint?”

Alex scoffed. “Who hasn’t?”

She smiled. “I assigned a couple of his poems to these folks, but seems like no one’s done it but Eliza.”

Eliza shrugged, smiled ruefully.

“Preposterous!” Alex exclaimed. “I can’t imagine— his work is incredibly poignant and captures the essence of crucial attitudes during a period in which the government only sought to trample those voices; I always found his attitude more impressive than anything, though. Don’t you think?” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “His poised elegance at the inevitability of his death was so— it was so—“

Instead of mocking him the way Alexander expected, Angelica leaned forward, fingers on her lips. “It’s a different approach to much of what we see with AIDS-era queer artists, isn’t it? The blend of beauty with ugliness. I found it impressive, how he’s so raw, yet so eloquent.”

“Yes, such a different way of conveying his message! Did you know he was an immigrant?”

She smirked, black eyes twinkling. “Who doesn’t?”

“Get a room, y’all!” Mulligan hollered from the back.

Alexander flushed even harder. Angelica just flipped him off, and Maria glared and put her feet up on her desk as if to claim it.

Alex felt eyes, flicked his to John Laurens. But he was still gazing downwards, though sitting a little more upright. One of his hands was toying with his hair again, and Alexander found himself briefly entranced with the wonder of the sensation on the back of his own hand.

He lowered his voice. “So… how’d the trio get involved?”

Angelica quirked a brow. “Mulligan came from the Black Student Union, I think LaFayette was just in the GSA…. John was in the Latino group. Hear he used to make a lot of noise, and I know he sure did when we merged into Students of Color. But since we became MSU, he’s just… retreated.” She subtly studied the boy.

“He’s not… uncomfortable with that kind of thing, is he?” Alex was beginning to feel thorny vines cling to his heart and send jolts through his bloodstream.

Angelica laughed, to his chagrin. “Nah, I doubt it. He hangs around LaFayette nearly twenty-four/seven, I don’t think he’d put up with someone who made him uncomfortable. But,” she murmured, “his dad’s pretty nasty.”

“Oh.” Alexander stared across the room.

John’s eyes suddenly flickered up to meet his. Alex’s breath caught.

His eyes glazed over again, an easy smile quickly replacing the intense expression. “What do you nerds keep gossiping about, huh?” he yelled.

Angelica shouted back, “you, but only the good stuff!”

John blew back an exaggerated kiss. Angelica pretended to wipe it off her skin with equally feigned disgust. Eliza giggled and drew her flannel closer around her chest as John threw a stick of gum in the air and caught it with his mouth.

Alex felt distant from their warmth. But, he thought, he could achieve it. Somehow.

—

John watched Angelica and the new kid out of the corner of his eye, fingers typing away on the locked screen of his phone for the sake of a cover. Alexander was a good few inches shorter than Angie, stiff shoulders and clenched jaw only accentuated in contrast with her relaxed posture.

The name on his pronoun sticker was written in cursive, the bold HE/HIM gaugeable even from where John was sitting. The large grey hoodie was threatening to swallow him whole. His eyes kept darting around the room, his fingers tugging at the dark ponytail almost non-stop.

He looked John’s way— John quickly fixed his eyes on the black lock-screen. Alexander whispered something, and Angie glanced over. “Who, that loser on his phone? That’s John Laurens.”

“I can hear you, you know,” he threw back, not looking up.  
He could hear LaFayette gasp somewhere behind him. “Yes, you! Stop talking such shit!”

He rolled his eyes, sneaked a quick look back up. Angelica was leaning in close to Alexander’s ear, whispering something with a small upwards turn of a lip. He seemed to be enjoying himself. John couldn’t exactly explain why that pissed him off so much.  
Good luck trying to steal her away, Maria’s got her in a death grip.

Jesus Christ, he needed to calm down. Mentally reprimanding his own attitude, he unlocked the screen, opened Neko Atsume.

“Oh, you got some rare cats.” A voice in his ear— he smiled, looked up to meet Maria’s eyes. She winked.

“They like my frisky bits,” he deadpanned.

She laughed, twirling a dark lock around her finger. “How are you and Eliza doing?”

He arched an eyebrow; her look didn’t waver. “As good as ever.”

“Hm.”

His eyes flew to Angelica. She and Alex seemed to be having the time of their lives, a small smile on her face as Alexander’s lips moved too quickly for John to follow, eyes on fire. He looked away, a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Martha tells me you’ve been drinking before noon again.”

He shrugged. “Can’t be drunk at home, gotta plan accordingly.”

She hummed.

He rolled his eyes. “This an intervention?”

“Jesus.” She straightened her spine, smoothed down her skirt. “Not your mom, Laurens.”

“Ditto.”

“Have a good day.” She turned with a hair flip, walked off. Eliza looked back at him as she walked past her table, met his eyes. He forced a smile, waved.

Pickles had given him a memento. He smiled, refilled the food bowls.

“Get a room, y’all!” Mulligan hollered. John sat up, taken aback. At the front of the room, Alexander was blushing furiously. John swallowed, focused on the cats again. There really wasn’t much to do in this game. He swiped through the apps, turned on facebook. Mulligan was spamming their group chat with the sinister oyster stickers again. He sent one back as moral support. 

Angelica was laughing. John sent one more oyster, for good measure.

—

Alex spun his pencil in his fingers, biting his lip. His foot twitched in time with the music blasting through his earbuds: Bach. _If x approaches 5.2, this curve…_ He bent closer over his textbook. _X approaches, x approaches…_

_Tap._

Alex shook his head, figuring it was just his brain, until the sensation came again— swift, firm. He broke away from his book and glared to his side, only to find a real person standing there. He quickly tore out his headphones. The cafeteria’s din returned.

The boy (he assumed it was a boy) next to him raised a brow. He pointedly flicked a lock of dark, bushy hair from his face and said, “hello?”

Alex cleared his throat. He held out his hand. “Alexander Hamilton.”

He smiled wryly. “I know who you are.” He did not sit down or return the gesture, instead opting to lean against the table with his hand. “I’m Tom Jefferson, but you can call me Thomas.”

Alex glanced from Thomas’ colorful silk shirt to his own tattered gray hoodie. He stood up to meet him. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course it is. Listen,” he continued, “I saw you in that meeting last week.”

“The Minority Student Union? Oh, it’s an outrage how the two clubs were forced together, don’t you think? However, I admit, it is convenient. More recognition for the true founders of the community, who—”

“Yeah, look. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but…” Thomas leaned towards him slightly… conspiratorially? “Those are not the kinds of people you want to be hanging around if you want any kind of social status. Folks like you and I know that respect should only be rewarded for hard work.” He eyed Alexander up and down. The shorter boy shivered and held his chin higher. “Forming that kind of cabal can only cause trouble.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Alexander coldly replied. “Respect is a right, and I intend to receive it. If it takes a few disdainful glances, I’ve endured worse.”

Jefferson opened his mouth, then closed it. “Well, if you want help with that any time soon, you’ll know where to find my friends and me. I’m afraid James and Aaron aren’t as willing as I am to give out second chances… or even first ones.”

Alexander tossed his head. “If this is a game of chance you’re engaging me in, I’d rather not play it. I prefer a victory won by skill.”

Jefferson laughed nastily. “Have fun winning with _that_ accent.”

“I think I’ll do just fine!” He gathered his books, clutching them to his chest and hoisting his bag onto his already-protesting shoulders. “I’ll see you in class, if I may be so unfortunate.” He stormed away, prickles of hot lightning lacing his chest. The very _indignation_ — he show him—

Alexander slammed his books down right next to John Laurens and promptly sat. “I’m going to kill Thomas Jefferson.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Uh-oh." Mulligan's voice was quiet, aloof, the slight undertone of sincere interest just barely audible. "Thomas is harassing the new kid."

"Thomas." Lafayette repeated the fellow student’s name the same way a child of ten would a bad word their parents had let slip, and chuckled. "Took him long enough."

"Huh." John Laurens glanced up from his phone's screen; Eliza's latest message, a sticker of a cartoon turtle giving him a big smile, remained unanswered. Sure enough, there Jefferson was, bright pink fuchsia shirt and all, looming over the significantly smaller form of the newest student.

"He the one from the MSU?" Mulligan asked, chewing on a mouthful of fries- Lafayette gave him a reprimanding slap on the shoulder.

“I am certain,” they replied, eyes focused on the unravelling scene. “He’s in my French class. He’s good.”

Both boys were on their feet by now— the new kid (Alexander, that’s his name) barely reaching Thomas’ chin.

“How good?”

Another chuckle. “He talks under his breath. Correct way of saying what Samuel Seabury says.” 

“Like that requires much knowledge—“

“He is staying with the Washingtons now.” They ignored the comment. “Martha says he studies a lot.”

“He’s in my economy class,” Mulligan added. “Very opinionated.”

“Sounds like Angelica’s type.” 

John snorted. “Sounds like Angelica.” 

“Now if you only dared say it to her face—“ Lafayette’s words faded off as the new kid’s voice grew louder (“I think I’ll do just fine!”, accompanied with dramatic collecting of his possessions and Thomas Jefferson’s increasingly reddening face). More words were exchanged, too quiet for the trio to catch on.

Mulligan wolf-whistled. “I think we missed something.”

John was just about to make a remark when he realized— the epiphany accompanied by Hercules’ foot excitedly pushing against his— that the red-faced, eyes-on-fire Alexander Hamilton who corrects Samuel Seabury’s frankly hilarious mispronunciation under his breath was headed for their table. They all stared— Lafayette with amusement, Mulligan with his eyes wide- at the approaching whirlwind.

A thud (not at all unexpected, but still loud enough to make John jump in his seat) of the three hardback books being slammed against the cafeteria table. Alexander sat down next to John, cheeks flushed dark.

“I’m going to kill Thomas Jefferson,” he announced.

Mulligan and Lafayette shared a look, and then turned towards John.

He cleared his throat. “Okay.”

A moment of silence. Alexander took a deep breath. His eyes were cast down, hands fisted in the fabric of his hoodie.

“So,” Mulligan spoke up, big smile on his face. “That was something.”

Alexander did not react; his eyes were large, very dark. John found himself looking at Lafayette for help.

“Haven’t seen someone shut Jefferson down like that since LaF’s francophone outburst last April.” Hercules leaned in, a friendly smile on his face. “You okay?”

“— and so elitist— sorry?” He looked up again, took a deep breath. “I— oh. I’m—“

There was something very deer-in-the-headlights about his current posture; John found himself amused with the rapid switch. He nudged the newcomer’s shoulder with his.

“It was great,” he said. “Angelica would love it.”

“She already loves him,” Hercules added. Alexander’s eyes flitted between the two of them, still alarmed.

John scanned his brain for a new tactic. “Alex, right?”

“Alexander— um. Yes.” He tugged at his pony tail, chewed on his lower lip. “Can I— are you okay with me— is it all right if I sit here?”

“Yeah,” both Mulligan and Laurens said at the same time.

Lafayette rolled their eyes, leaned forward. “Nice standing up to Thomas,” they whispered. Alexander smiled. “What did he say?”

Alexander took a deep breath. “Oh, lord.”

“Sounds like Thomas, yes.”

“He told me not to- “ Alexander frowned. “He was appalling.”

“Also sounds like Thomas.” Mulligan agreed.

“Did he threaten you?” John asked. “He threatened Mulligan once.”

Mulligan nodded. “That brought on the hurricane LaFayette. Best day of my life.”

Alex scowled. “Does he threaten people often?”

LaFayette glanced over at the guy in question, chuckled. “Thomas likes to feel important.”

“Respect should only be rewarded for hard work.” Alex breathed— then he laughed, a raspy sound verging on hysteria. It made John’s chest feel weird.

“You okay?”

Alex sat up straighter immediately. “Sorry.”

“Don’t— yeah, okay.” He took a bite of his sandwich. Across the table, LaFayette was rapidly signing something at Mulligan. Alexander was focused on the table’s surface.

Someone stepped on John’s foot. He looked up, affronted, and Mulligan’s eyes gestured to the phone almost falling out of John’s bag. He had a new message. Sighing, he subtly checked it. LaFayette was asking Alex about professor Washington, and Laurens almost got distracted— another kick to his calf.

_yo invite the newb to ur party ┌( ˵ ⊘ ‿ ⊘ ˵ )ᕤ ┌( ˵ ⊘ ‿ ⊘ ˵ )ᕤ_

He scowled at the sender, sat across the table- Mulligan beamed back.

_/middle finger emoji/_

“You could’ve just sent the actual thing,” Mulligan whispered in reply. John flipped him off, avoided another kick under the table.

“Hey, Alex?” he spoke up. Both him and LaFayette looked up. “Doing anything this Friday?”

Alex’ eyebrows went up, and Mulligan burst out laughing. “I beg your pardon—“

“My family is out of town, there’ll be a party,” he rushed to get out, aware that his cheeks were heating up. He could see LaFayette’s smirk in his peripheral vision. “You should come.”

“Oh.” Alex seemed to ponder on it for a second. “Uh. Certainly. I suppose there’s no reason I shouldn’t.”

“Sweet!” Mulligan kicked him under the table again. John could already feel the tomorrow’s bruise.

—

Alex’s feet hurt.

For the last hour, he’d been pacing back and forth across his still-barren room, occasionally bumping into things, trying to convince himself he looked okay.

He checked his watch— 8:12. Almost time to leave. He scrambled to the foot of his bed, and rummaged underneath it for the picture he’d stored there soon after he’d arrived. A bit old and worn, but it was still intact: a peaceful image of a dark boy with a slight, confident smile, standing before the doors of the school he now attended.

Aaron Burr, he’d read, had transferred on scholarship from what Alex knew were hard circumstances. Two years ago, he’d read his story on his current school’s website. He’d immediately felt a small part of his heart soar.

He ran his thumb over those sharp eyes. “Wish me luck,” he laughed nervously, before shoving it back under the bed. “I’ll find you soon.”

For good measure, he checked himself over in the mirror a last time: soft jawline, striking nose; thin shoulders, dark eyebrows. He shook his hair out from its loose ponytail, examining the thick obsidian curling softly around his features. Decided against it, put it back up.

He wasn’t a masterpiece, with his smudged hoodie and scuffed-up sneakers, but his jeans were clean, and at least he looked more or less like a guy.

He convinced himself it was enough and called down to Washington.

—

Eliza looked very pretty. He told her that, straining his voice over the loud music Mulligan and Peggy were taking turns playing, and gave her a hug. The smile she replied with was strained. He paused, arched an eyebrow. She refused to meet his eyes.

“Betsey?”

“John.” She smiled again, tugged at the sleeves of her cream sweater. “You look very nice.”

“Thanks?” He was still frowning. She was still not meeting his eyes— she was looking at the spot between his eyebrows, the way LaFayette had taught her last year in MSU. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s just—“ She paused, took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“Oh?”

“In private.”

“Oh.”

John led them to his parents’ room. He wasn’t sure why. She was still smiling. There was something akin to sadness— no, guilt?— in her eyes.

“John.”

“You’re making me really nervous here,” he told her, attempting a smile on his own. 

“Sorry.”

“At least we know you’re not pregnant, right?”

She laughed. He laughed along, still mystified. “Eliza—“

“We should break up.”

He halted. She was staring at the floor, cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“I’m really sorry.” She finally looked him straight in the eyes; hers were big, guilty. “I swear it’s not you.”

“No, it’s okay.” He sat down, smiled again. “But—“

“I really love you, a lot, but—“ A pause, a shrug. “You have to admit we work better as friends.”

He let his brain fully process the thought, tried to find something to contradict her on. “Well—“

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He laughed. He felt weird. She shuffled on the spot, face still bright red. “Is there someone else?”

“No.” Too fast. He frowned. She sighed. “I don’t think there will be, either?”

Now that got his interest. “Like—“

The doors flew open. They both jumped in surprise— Alexander Hamilton, frozen at the doorstep, looked equally shocked.

“Oh, I’m sorry—“

“Alex!” John stood up— oh, thank god— “Hey, come in!”

Eliza gave him a look he decided to ignore. “Eliza, this is Alexander Hamilton—“

“Yes, we’ve met.” She smiled. “At MSU.”

Alexander’s face lit up with recognition. “You’re Angelica Schuyler’s sister.”

She laughed, nodded. “That’s how I’m mostly known, yes.”

“Oh, no, I did not mean to imply—“ Poor boy looked ready to flee the scene. John could relate. Eliza laughed again. “I’m very sorry.”

“I’m not offended.” 

Alexander nodded, looked down. Eliza and John shared a look. “Oh, should I— you two were probably—“ Alexander was suddenly in motion, retreating. His eyes flew to the king-sized bed behind them, the one John had been sitting on, then to Eliza, then back to John— “I should go.”

“Wait—“

He slammed the doors on his way out.

—

Alex reeled. As he sharply turned and hurried aimlessly away, he pressed his hand to his mouth. The commonplace but still overwhelming rapid succession of emotions caught his stomach in a sick dance: shock— rage— jealousy— then guilt, guilt so intense he felt his throat clog with self-disgust.

_You barely know him._

He shoved his way into the bathroom, locking the door against some poor, glazed-eyed girl. He sat on the edge of the white tub, heart pounding as his eyes unfocused, hands limp in his lap, the sudden quiet.

“He doesn’t belong to you, he’s not yours,” he found himself coaching his loosely twitching, disembodied fingers. “You barely know him. Barely know him.”

He let himself shut off, shut down as unenthused thuds on the door increased, music dulled. The bathroom was clean. (It was clean, clean the way John looked, clean as Alexander was dirty—)

He turned on the hot water and ran his fingers underneath the burning jet stream as the bottom of the tub filled with a thin layer of water. He switched the noise off and tapped the surface with his finger. It rippled.

_It didn’t happen in a clean room._

He breathed deeply. His binder felt tight and hot on his chest. “Snap out of it, Alexander,” he said. “Alexander. Stop it.”

He could deal with it. He could deal.

He forcefully unplugged the drain and listened to the sucking, gulping sound with deep satisfaction.

He opened the door and everything crashed again. As the drunk girl from before shoved past him and slammed the door, he recognized the new face in front of him as none other than John Laurens’… girlfriend.

Her eyes were warm and hopeful. “Hi,” she offered.

It was all he could do to reply in turn.

She laughed. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter. The noise is killing me.”

Alex balled his fists in his pockets as he followed her through a crowd, into (yet another) room with an abandoned pool table in it and a few kids who looked flat-out stoned. “It smells revolting in here,” he said.

“I know, right?” she giggled. She pulled her long, raven hair over her shoulder. “You seemed a little skittish, I thought I should explain myself.”

“Okay.” He blinked. Everything felt like too much. He didn’t want to talk to her, not now. She was too soft-looking, too blindingly pretty, with her sweet, little mouth and defined oval face.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh— sorry. Sorry, right.” _Get a grip._ “I’m perfectly fine. Why would you think otherwise?”

Her brows creased in… confusion? Anger? “… I’m glad you’re becoming friends with John.”

He smiled bitterly despite himself. “I wouldn’t call us that.”

“That’s unfortunate. I think he rather likes you.”

“I like him, I just—“ He caught himself before he let his guts spill. Christ, she was so pretty. Of course he’d want a pretty girl. Of course he’d want her. And she, him.

He saw John’s girlfriend raise an eyebrow even as she put a tender hand on his shoulder. Tender like a mother. “You seem a little drunk.”

“Yes,” Alex immediately agreed, though he’d barely drank a thing. His insides churned all the same. He tugged on his ponytail, hurting.

“Do you want to come to the living room with John and me?” Elizabeth asked. “He gets pretty lonely, and I’m sure he’d like your company.”

He drew back. “No.” His skin burned white-hot where she’d touched it. _Enemy. She’s the enemy._ “I think I’d better get home.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Are you sure? Do you need a ride?”

“I’m fine!” He felt his voice rising.

She let go of him, clearly restrained. He hated her, he fucking hated her guts and all her high-end, piously composed sensitivity. He turned on his heel and left the room before he could do something more he’d regret.

He passed pairs of eyes on his way back up the stairs—LaFayette’s glittering, Mulligan’s dark— staring at him, he felt, all staring, staring, burrowing into his skin like plagued worms. He’d just made it to the door when someone grabbed his arm.

Alex flinched so hard, he hit the person in question— whom he realized with astonishment was a now-teetering John Laurens.

“What the hell, man?” John slurred as he slowly righted himself.

Alex’s whole body tensed up. He could feel the blood in his ears. “I’m sorry,” he rushed. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry—“

“Dude. Dude, calm down.” John put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. He smelled like booze. Alex forced his body not to twitch again. “Woah, skinny. Anyway. Why’re you leaving?”

“I need to go home.”

Some of John’s curls had fallen out of his ponytail, and they tumbled over his unfocused but somehow still piercing eyes: hazel, Alexander noticed now, just about swimming with gold.

“It ain’t even midnight,” John told him.

“I have to work.” If he kept touching him, Alex was going to die.

“Hey, hey.” John moved his hand from his shoulder to his elbow. There was something in his touch (was Alex imagining it?) almost forcedly soft. Like there was something below his surface waiting to burst forth. “Calm down. It’s, like, it’s Friday. Chill?”

“Maybe you can afford that, but I can’t.” Alexander tore his arm from John’s grip.

John’s eyes widened for half a second, then melted back into neutrality so quickly Alex almost thought he imagined it. The taller boy stood back, crossing his arms lazily. “All right. Whatever. You bore yourself to death on a _Fri_ -day night, ‘snot my problem.”

“Right. Okay.” He pushed open the door, saw black sky. Golden light misted over the edges of the darkness, and for a moment, Alexander stood poised, between warmth and the shock of cold, between John’s eyes and the empty, silent street. He could hear music.

He turned away and stepped into the night. He heard the door shut behind him.

Alex strode, wringing his hands, down the eerie, doll-like street. The asphalt was too unbroken beneath his thin sneakers. It repulsed him.

Alex was shivering, but not from the cold. The palpitations of his heart crescendoed as he kneeled in front of a church, yanked out his phone, and pressed his trembling thumb to Washington’s speed dial. He held the phone to his chest as it rang. He could see his reflection in the black windows: gaunt, distorted. Eyes like a frozen animal.

“ _Alexander!_ ”

“Yes!” He fumbled, holding the phone back up to his ear. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Can you…” He swallowed. The very wind smarted. “Can you pick me up?”

“You’re still at John Laurens’ house?”

He huddled, rocked to quell his violent shaking. “No. I’m at the church that is in close proximity to it.” He glanced up. “Trinity. Are you able to retrieve me with haste?”

“Yes, slow down. I’ll be there in a minute.” Washington hung up. He did not waste time.

Alex breathed in and out. _Fuck._ Fantastic. He’d just wasted his one chance at a proper friendship. Even if he found someone else, word traveled fast— they’d know— they’d know he was a fuck-up with no manners, know he was a degenerate, a menace, a burden on society….

_What do we think about when we feel that way?_

Alex circled his wrist, rubbed subconsciously. John would never be friends with him now. Not in a million years, and rightfully so. John was a good boy. He should be able to handle having a perfect stranger date a pretty girl without having a fucking meltdown over it.

By the time Washington came to pick him up, he’d resigned himself to it. John Laurens hated him. He was alone again.

—

“Well, that went well.”

“Shut up, Hercules.”

His laughter was too loud. “Ouch.” He slapped John’s back with too much force, disappeared down the hallway. He was still laughing.

John stared the doors down for another moment, and then turned on his heel.

This entire evening was not going as planned.

He made his way to the kitchen, focused on getting a drink. Peggy Schuyler watched him as he took in the alcohol selection (they were almost out of beer, no wonder Mulligan was in such a good mood), eyes hazy yet apprehensive.

“Eliza dumped me already, yes,” he told xem, mixing himself another rum-coke.

Xe blinked, cheeks flushing a shade darker. “I wasn’t—”

He gave xem a deadpan look.

Xe pressed xyr lips into a thin line, nodded. “I’ll be- yeah- I’ll go.”

“Cool.”

Xe stumbled out, xyr own cup in hand. John’s rum-coke was mostly rum, but he decided to just go with it.

Someone clapped his shoulder. “Why so blue?”

“Hey.” He tensed under the touch, sipped his drink— god, it tasted like shit— and smiled at LaFayette. “Thought Mulligan would have found you by now.”

“He did.” They smiled, retracted their hand. “But then the lovely Maria Reynolds asked him to take the remaining beer off her hands and I was left forgotten.”

Knowing Mulligan, it probably was just the beer he was interested in. “He’s not fooling anyone.”

“You neither.”

“What?”

“What?”

He stared up at them (they weren’t usually this much taller— look down, ahh, the heels, eyes back up)— their smile was sweet with patience, eyes knowing.

He downed the rest of his cup.

—

“Oh, c’mon. Now I know you’re lying.”

“Lying!” Peggy parroted, xyr head exaggeratedly drooping.

“No way you could fit that many shots in that thing,” Angelica continued. Her mouth melted warmly up at the corners nonetheless.

James Madison shook his head. His feet dangled from the wide kitchen counter, a glass of bourbon cradled between his thin legs. “Believe what you wish,” he said, velvet voice almost losing itself in the room, “but I would never lie to you.”

“Nah, you would never!” Angelica laughed. She sipped her wine, trying to undo the coils of tension wound in her chest. She checked her phone for the fifth time in as many minutes and resisted the urge to send Eliza another checkup text. “Where’s Burr?” she asked instead. “He skip out on the trio?”

“He claims he’s studying,” Madison replied.

Angelica snorted. Peggy snorted in turn, and got some of xyr drink on xyr skirt. Angelica patted xyr back.

Bangs resounded on the doorframe, followed by Mulligan barreling into the room, grinning and almost tripping. Lafayette followed closely after him, giggling and leaning on his shoulder, bopping slightly to the din of the music. How the latter managed to stay on two feet tipsy and in those pumps, Angelica would never know.

“How you two doin’?” she asked fondly, wincing slightly at her slurred-together sentence. “You seen Eliza?”

Hercules squinted at her, and rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry— too loud to….” He laughed like thunder, quickly turning to Lafayette and sloppily but excitedly signing out what he was trying to say.

“Music kept giving his hearing aid… too much noise.” They flapped at their ear, accent even thicker than usual. Mulligan tapped their shoulder, and made a few more gestures. They squinted and ran a hand through their hair. “Feed-back. Is that the screaming noise? This is too much.”

Angelica interjected again before Mulligan’s laughter could overwhelm the room. “You seen Eliza?”

Lafayette shook their head as Mulligan’s grin suddenly lit up mischievously and he sprinted out of the room. “Last time, I saw her with our darling John. After that, Alexander stormed out, and… _je sais pas_.”

Angelica’s heartbeat quickened despite herself. She drank. “You go make sure Mulligan doesn’t get into too much trouble. Lemme know if you see her, yeah?”

“Yes, yes.” Lafayette wobbled out of the room, their drink in a death grip.

“I better go, too,” James concurred. He hopped down from the counter to pour fruit juice right into the bourbon.

Angelica wrinkled her nose. “Damn, skinny Minnie, you too?”

He smiled wanly, but not unkindly. “Thomas will be wanting me.” Noticing Angelica’s pointed look at the drink, he explained, “he claims he likes it straight, but I don’t believe him.”

“Can’t cop out on your BFF, huh?” John and the rest had been avoiding him all night, invited more out of necessity and for want of a laugh than anything, but James was, as per usual, a different case.

The boy rolled his eyes, but again with little enthusiasm. He shrugged. “We’d all read about it in the papers.”

“Well, don’t say ‘hi’ from me,” Angelica laughed. She waved to James one more time as he left the room to find Jefferson. She shifted, the room feeling too empty too quickly.

“Are there more cookies?” Peggy asked.

Angelica ruffled xyr hair. “I think so, but don’t stuff yourself.”

“Don’t _stuff_ yourself,” Peggy mimicked, then giggled. Xe pawed around for the Oreos, cramming two in xyr mouth as soon as xe found them.

Angelica was on the verge of deciding to call Eliza regardless, her own independence be damned, when the girl in question stepped into the room.

“Hey!” Angelica set down her wine and held out her arms, and Eliza instantly fell into them. Angelica’s anxiety dissipated like mist. She stroked her sister’s hair gingerly. “Hey, there. How’d it go?”

Eliza sighed. “I did my best.”

Angelica pulled back, examining her face. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, Ang, I’ll be fine.” Eliza smiled. “It’s quite the relief, actually.” She worried at her lip. “I’m just… nervous about John. And Alexander.”

“John’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.” Angelica brushed a strand of hair from Eliza’s face. “What’s going on with lil’ Alex?”

Her sister just sighed again. “I’ll explain it when you’re sober.”

“You want anything?”

Peggy clambered behind Eliza and hugged her. “Sibling sandwich,” xe slurred.

“No, not tonight,” Eliza answered. She smiled again, playfully flicking Angelica’s shoulder. “Hey, how about you go find Maria?”

Angelica squinted. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Go on, be the life of the party. I know you want to.”

Angelica rolled her eyes and laughed in spite of herself. “All right, but you….” She touched Eliza’s shoulder, head bobbing. “You take care.”

“Sure thing, Angie. Now go, have fun!”

Angelica smiled at her on her way out, waving.

The music pulsed all the more loudly as Angelica slinked her way into the huge living room, luxurious sofas pushed to the very edges to make room for the throngs of people. She smiled and bounced through the crowd, slowly making her way to the back of the room where she knew Maria would be.

Warmth touched her arm and dissolved her like liquid sugar before she caught sight of her girlfriend’s eyes: warm, glittering, even darker in the dim light. Twin tunnels leading down, down.

Maria’s warm lips brushed against Angelica’s ear. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she murmured back, shifting into rhythm with her.

“It was boring dancing all alone.”

“Is that so?” Angelica teased her, heart melting like warm chocolate.

Maria’s denim-painted hips snapped to the beat, hair everywhere, eyes like stars. She pulled her girlfriend in her a slow, heated kiss. Angelica’s head went light, going drunker on this than any wine. She could taste Maria’s lipstick.

The other girl pulled back slowly, a smirk on her face as she murmured, “Damn straight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (big thanks @everyone who left a review or a kudos it means a lot!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something fucked up with the texting formatting in this chapter, and we are doing our best to fix that. as it is, i hope its understandable until we can figure out the html!!

“LaFayette?“

“Yes, love?“

“If someone were to pee on any of my father’s belongings, you’d tell me, right?”

There was a pause. John looked over. LaFayette was pointedly avoiding his eyes, a grin tugging on their lips. “I will make Mulligan wash that.”

“Thanks.”

It was now precisely three in the afternoon, a Saturday. He’d woken up five minutes ago. Hercules Mulligan had peed on his father’s confederate flag. Gazing down at the stained cloth in his hands, John pondered on his existence.

“Ah, here is the culprit.” LaFayette’s amused voice broke him out of his reverie. Mulligan stood at the doorway, peering in.

“What—“ His eyes halted on John’s form, his face flushing. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I dreamed that part.”

“Sounds pretty surreal.”

A beat. Hercules burst out laughing.

“You will wash that,” LaFayette told him. He nodded, still laughing.

“Why?”

“Someone had to.”

“Literally no one—“

Hercules’ laughter grew louder. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“Where is Alexander?” LaFayette interrupted, Mulligan’s laughter still a background noise. “I did not take him as a bailing type.”

“Oh, yeah.” John swallowed, set the pee stained flag down. “He left yesterday, really early.”

LaFayette’s eyebrows went up. “How come?”

Good question. “Said he’s busy.”

Mulligan stopped laughing. John could feel both their eyes fixated on the back of his head. He kneeled down, picked up a paper cup.

“Don’t you two have a flag to wash?” 

There was some bickering as the two made arrangements on how the flag was to be handled, and then John was alone, still on the floor. The bed sheets smelled like gin; he’d have to get them washed, too. He lay down. His head was pounding.

_Why did Alex leave?_

“Well, this room seems under control.” Angelica Schuyler’s voice rang from the doorframe. John swore, calculating the pros and cons of crawling under the bed and pretending he wasn’t here.

“Really?” That was Eliza. Under the bed it was.

“No, your ex-boyfriend is on the floor and the whole place reeks of booze.” Angelica paused. “Or maybe that’s just him.”

“Can you just take a literal shit on me and get this over with?” he called out, still not moving.

“Funny enough, that’s what Peggy and I talked Mulligan out of doing to your dad’s flag.” 

Eliza’s choked laugh. “That’s terrible.”

“He still peed on it.”

“No, that was Peggy.”

John finally sat up, turned to stare at Angelica.

She met his eyes, burst out laughing. “You look terrible.”

“Likewise.” It was a lie. She looked great. She always looked great. He didn’t have to admit that, though.

“Always a charmer.” She entered the room, closely followed by Eliza. They both looked far too composed for a morning after a party. “Go to bed, we’ll handle this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes we do, now go.” She pulled him to his feet. There was a large hickey just above her collarbone. John chose not to comment.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He met Eliza’s eyes on his way out. She immediately looked away.

—

LaFayette was draped over Mulligan’s lap, their feet resting on John’s knees. John blinked awake for the second time that day, a bitter taste in his mouth.

He groaned. The duo glanced in his direction.

“Morning,” Lafayette said, not moving from their spot. “Do you want food?”

John thought it over. “No.”

“Have a gummy worm.”

“Fuck off, Hercules.”

Mulligan blew him a kiss. John slumped back, stared up at the ceiling. “Don’t you two have places to be?”

“We got permission to stay over.” 

“Whose? Not mine, for sure.”

“I washed your dad’s confederate flag, I get to sleep in his bed.” 

LaFayette chuckled. “Is that how it works?” 

“You’re the reason it needed washing!”

“Why does he even have one? Is it not, uh—“ LaFayette paused. 

“Racist?”

“That.” 

Mulligan grinned. “Yeah.”

“Well he kind of is racist, don’t know if you’ve noticed.” John crawled out of his bed, stretched. He felt like shit. “Anyone else here?”

“Just us,” LaFayette replied. Mulligan blew him a kiss.

“Lucky me.”

“Brat.”

He made it down the stairs, took a short break at the bottom; the kitchen lights were far too bright, the tiles refreshingly cold. He got himself a glass of water, drained it in one go, debated whether or not to get food.

“You’re okay?”

“Peachy.” He turned around to face the newcomer.

LaFayette nodded, opened the fridge. “I will make you food.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nonsense.”

John couldn’t help but smile. He leaned against the counter, watched them slice some bread.

“So, what is it that happened between you and dear Alex, exactly?”

John snorted. “Dear Alex?”

They shrugged. “He is dear to me.”

“I never got a byname.”

A smile. “Not to your person.”

John whistled.

LaFayette laughed. “How much cheese do you want?”

“Fuck me up.”

“Bad language.”

“Mhm.”

John had made his way through another glass of water as LaFayette finished his meal.

“I made a smile with the sauce. You cannot see it, but it is there,” they told him. He nodded solemnly, accepted the plate.

“It feels happier.”

“Carrement vrai.”

“Oui, oui.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

They allowed him to get halfway through his sandwich before bringing the subject again.

“You did not answer me.”

“What?”

“About Alexander.”

“What about Alexander?”

LaFayette sighed. John grinned, mouth full of food.

“Quel bordel.”

“Stop that.” 

“What?”

John glared at them. They replied with a serene smile.

There was a minute of silence. John chewed down another couple of bites. “Honestly?”

“That would be optimal, yes.”

Another glower. LaFayette shrugged.

“I don’t remember.”

“Oh?”

John’s turn to shrug. LaFayette nodded, apparently content to let it be.

“If you wish to talk—“

“Thank you, Gilbert.”

A pause. LaFayette laughed.

“I will take that as a cue to be quiet.” They curtsied. “Now I’ll be returning to our sweet Mulligan.”

“Sweet?”

“You do not want to know what I call you.”

John grinned. “Fair enough.”

“And for the love of holy, do not speak with your mouth full.” And with that, LaFayette was out of the room. John laughed into the plate.

With some solid food in his stomach and more water in his hand, John made way back upstairs. The house appeared to be thoroughly cleaned, something he was very grateful for- Mulligan and LaFayette were to be found passed out on his bed.

“I should take a picture,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure where he’d left his phone. “Fuck.”

He ended up sleeping on his parents’ bare mattress. He woke up a couple of times, but could not remember any dreams.

—

The kettle was boiling. Eliza watched Angelica fiddle with the cups, eyes constantly wandering in their direction. Peggy sat to her right, forehead pressed against the table surface. The iPhone in her hands, opened on the facebook chat with John, still read no new messages.

“Camomile okay?” Angelica called out. Peggy groaned.

“Perfect, thank you,” Eliza replied, rubbing small circles into her sibling’s back. The only thing lower than xyr alcohol tolerance was xyr moderation.

“I want coffee,” Peggy moaned into xyr arm.

Angelica appeared at the doorway, a mug in each hand. “Well, go and make some, then.” They were placed before each sibling with all the care her voice wasn’t giving away. “Brat.”

“Love you too,” Peggy muttered into the table-.Angelica snorted, ruffled xyr hair.

“You need rest and water,” Eliza whispered. “Caffeine won’t help.”

Angelica returned again with her own cup of tea, sat down next to Eliza. “And you should probably eat something.”

“I’ll throw up on your shoes.”

“Which ones?”

“All ones.”

Eliza snorted.

Angelica’s hand found hers, squeezed it. “Are you okay?”

Ignoring her sibling unintelligible complaints, Eliza turned towards her sister, squeezed her hand back. “I’m fine.”

“You did a very good job last night.”

She rolled her eyes.

Angelica stuck her tongue out. “I mean it.”

Eliza sighed, relaxed into the comforting contact. “LaFayette is not home yet…. Do you think John is upset?”

“I think John is in no state to feel anything but regret for not drinking water last night,” Angelica deadpanned. “Much like someone else we know!”

“You are so rude, why do you have friends.” Peggy sat up, reached for xyr cup. “Also how are you so cheerful?”

“I drank water.”

“Shut up.”

Eliza pressed a hand to her mouth, laughed silently. Angelica leaned into her side.

“Are you sure John won’t be angry with me?”

“You did nothing wrong.” Peggy scowled. “I’ll beat him up if it comes to that.”

“Peggy.”

Xe beamed at her, heavy shadows under xyr eyes. Angelica high fived xem.

“You two are terrible,” Eliza noted with a smile. Angelica squeezed her hand again.

“Shouldn’t we phone LaF, though?” Peggy asked. “Mom and dad will be home soon.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time they spent the Saturday at John’s place.” Angelica shook her head. “Let them party.”

Peggy dropped xyr head back to the table. “I don’t want to hear that word ever again.”

“What? Saturday?”

“Stop being a smartass.”

“Are you sure mum and dad won’t mind?” Eliza persisted. It was nice to worry about something else than the way she had probably ruined the relationship she and John had. Angelica squinted at her, no doubt reading her mind.

“When had they ever minded?” Peggy asked, slurping at xyr tea.

Eliza sighed. “They only moved in this semester. There was no time for anyone to mind.”

“LaFayette will be fine,” Angelica assured her. “And so will John.”

“She said nothing about John—“

“But she’s thinking it.”

Eliza leaned back, rolled her eyes at the joined antics. “I mean, breaking up with him at his own party?”

“It’s not like there’s a good time to break someone’s heart, though.”

“Peggy!”

“Not that you broke his heart!”

Angelica was scowling. Eliza patted her shoulder in what she hoped was a calming manner.

“Want to text LaF and hear their report?” Peggy was already pulling out xyr phone.

“I don’t know— it’s a breach of privacy, don’t you think?”

“I’m in no state to think.”

Angelica laughed. “Text ‘em, kiddo.”

“Okay, captain.” Xyr fingers moved quickly as they typed up a message.  
“Don’t feel bad about it, really.”

Eliza shrugged, checked the phone again.

“You’re feeling bad about it.”

Eliza sighed. “But his dad is so terrible.”

The simultaneous noises of protest nearly made her jump out of her chair.

“What does that have to do with anything—“ “You don’t owe anyone shit—“ “You should have let me pee on that flag!”

Eliza started laughing. Both her siblings quieted immediately. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Angelica’s hand was around her shoulders. She leaned into the hug. “Want to make popcorn and watch Steven Universe while Peggy takes a nap?” Angelica whispered. Eliza nodded.

Peggy’s face lit up. “I’m in!”

“Sounds good,” Eliza whispered.

Angelica beamed, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Peggy, go make the popcorn.”

Eliza laughed over Peggy’s groan; Angelica joined in, standing up.  
“Is it too late to phone LaFayette and make them bring us snack foods?”

“Mulligan’s got them in a death grip.”

“He can bring snacks too,” Peggy said, not moving from xyr stop. “Set up a pillow fort?”

“On it.” Angelica was putting two bags of popcorn into the microwave. “Eliza?”

“Sure,” Eliza checked her phone one last time— no messages. “On it.”

—

The Monday after the party, Alex firmly retreated to his previous seat, jammed his headphones in his ears, and absorbed himself in his studies. Unfortunately, he ran out of homework, and the brief space in between finishing that and yanking out Hobbes was gut-wrenchingly painful. He buried his maze of worries in the philosophy, feeling vindicated with the writer’s accusations against humanity.

It was inconveniently in the middle of his usual pacing session that evening when his phone buzzed abrasively. He brushed it off. It buzzed again after a few minutes like a hornet, and Alexander whirled around and took it up, glaring at the screen.

The sender’s number was unfamiliar. Alex at least felt the relief that it wasn’t John, but when he swiped his thumb across the screen to read it in full, his heart did a flip.

**this is alex, yes?**

**\- we should talk.**

Alex’s hands shook slightly. He slowly texted back, _Who is contacting me at this hour?_

**lafayette, from the school.**

He frowned. _Did John give you my number?_

**yes.**

**\- well, in a way.**

**\- i stole his phone and found you.**

Alex replied hurriedly, _Does John know of this blatant violation of his personal privacy?_

**he will not care** , Lafayette replied. **he has nothing to hide from me. only you do that.**

Alex, already excited, bristled defensively. _What do you want?_

**i want you to talk to him.**

_Clearly, you and he do not share the same interests._

**i doubt that. he is worried you are upset with him.**

_I’m not upset._ Alex paused for a moment. He pushed through. _Is he angry with me?_

Lafayette replied, **i think he is simply perplexed.**

_Fine._

**so you will talk to him?**

_Yeah._

_\- Sure, I can do that._

__

__—_ _

__“Do you think Alex is gay?“_ _

__LaFayette looked up; above them, their queerplatonic partner was chewing on his lips, absent-mindedly playing with their hair. “Alex Hamilton?”_ _

__Hercules laughed, playfully tugged at one of their curls. “Do you know any other Alexes?”_ _

__“I do.”_ _

__He frowned. “Any of them relevant?”_ _

__“Not to you, maybe.”_ _

__He leaned over, kissed their forehead. “Answer the question, yo.”_ _

__They sighed dramatically and rolled over, still half-laid in Mulligan’s lap. “Maybe.”_ _

__“Maybe?” His voice was incredulous. “Dude, were you at the same MSU meeting as me because—“_ _

__“He’s definitely not heterosexual.” LaFayette interrupted, patting Hercules’ nose gently. “I do not wish to presume his sexuality myself.”_ _

__Hercules nuzzled his face into their palm._ _

__They rolled their eyes. “Why do you ask?”_ _

__Hercules shrugged._ _

__LaFayette frowned._ _

__“Do you think John is gay?”_ _

__“Oh, monsieur matchmaker.” LaFayette sat up, turned around to face him. “I do not think our young friend is yet ready for a rebound.”_ _

__“Why do you call him young, he’s like our age.”_ _

__They placed a sole finger on Mulligan’s lips. He pouted. “Not saying we should hook them up— although….“ Hercules grinned, expectant. LaFayette arched a single eyebrow. His grin fell slightly. “Really?”_ _

__“Point. Get to one.” They still rested their head on his shoulder, to make sure he didn’t think they were mad. “Quick.”_ _

__“All right, all right, princess.” He worked his fingers into their scalp, and they gave a grateful hum. “I was just thinking.”_ _

__“That you were.”_ _

__“Shoosh, you— and, yeah, both Alex and John are acting super weird and—“_ _

__“John just got broken up with, mon petit chou,” they retorted. “And you do not know Alexander well enough to declare his behaviour ‘super weird.’”_ _

__“Yeah, true, I guess.” Hercules was silent for a moment. “What does choo mean?”_ _

__“Warrior,” they deadpanned._ _

__“I’ll google that.”_ _

__“You do it.”_ _

__They remained that way for a while longer— Hercules petting LaFayette’s hair, them curled up against his chest— separating only after their caretaker family’s fifth call._ _

__—_ _

__Alex worried persistently at the issue all through the next morning like a deeply embedded scab. Each recalling of it shot through him hotly. He considered putting it off, but quickly dismissed the idea. Being this distracted from his studies wasn't worth it._ _

__He strode up to John's table at lunch, avoiding Lafayette's eyes. He grabbed his shoulder._ _

__"Yo, what—"_ _

__"We need to talk."_ _

__"Uh, yeah. All right."_ _

__John followed him to the wall of the room, where he hunched against the dirty brick in a desperate grasp for privacy. He fiddled with his hoodie's sleeves. He flinched with each shout echoing over the cafeteria._ _

__"So… what's up?" John pressed._ _

__"I..." Alex swallowed. "I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize, I was— I was completely out of line, I should never have assumed anything about your relationships or yourself, in fact, and I promise I have grieved this error—"_ _

__"Hey, hey. Slow down, man. What are you sorry for?"_ _

__Alex breathed deeply. He forced control over his voice, realizing it had risen, his accent pronounced. "I mean, I shouldn't have treated you with such misconduct at your party."_ _

__"Oh, uh, I don't really care about that."_ _

__Alex squinted. He seemed genuine._ _

__"I mean it, like, I don't really remember it, so it's all water under the bridge, yeah?"_ _

__"Oh." Alex felt strangely on edge still. He hadn't received the anger he'd been bracing for. He was dissatisfied. "And you and Eliza...."_ _

__John smiled wryly. "Oh, so she told you?"_ _

__There it was. His heart thudded. "Told me what?"_ _

__John laughed sharply. "That she broke up with me at the party."_ _

__"Oh. She hadn't. I'm… sorry to hear that."_ _

__"Nah, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have mentioned it."_ _

__Alex felt oddly guilty, as if he'd forced them apart. "What happened?"_ _

__John gripped his ponytail. "It's a long story. Anyway, sorry I was so..."_ _

__"Drunk?"_ _

__"Yeah, that."_ _

__Alex laughed nervously. "If you are mad at me, I can leave you alone. I didn't mean to cause you any discontent."_ _

__"I'm not mad. You talk like a dictionary, though."_ _

__"Sorry." Alex shoved his hands in his pockets._ _

__John clapped him on the back. "Quit worrying. C'mon, come sit with us… if you want."_ _

__He sighed in relief. "That sounds great."_ _

__Lunch faded far too quickly, punctuated with Mulligan’s deep laughs and John’s sudden smiles. In a matter of minutes, everything perfect again. Everything was okay, and John looked so nice, and Alexander’s chest hurt, he was so happy._ _

__He jogged downstairs to his next class, one that met weekly: _Debate_ , that should be fun, that should feel good._ _

__He walked in to see none other than Thomas Jefferson sitting at the front of the class, hands folded neatly. Alexander scowled. That asshole waggled his fingers, one eyebrow raised. Alex stalked to the other side of the room, throwing his bag on the floor._ _

__A much smaller, darker boy next to Jefferson tapped his shoulder and murmured something to him. They both snickered._ _

__Before Alexander had the time to get angry, a stooping man with a Penn State cap jammed over his grey-streaked hair walked into the room, coughing as he set down his enormous shoulder bag. Alex settled back in his seat, pulling out a pencil to dig into his thumb as he frowned._ _

__As the teacher (Mr. Moore, Alex was soon enlightened) began writing a list on the board in large, loopy handwriting: _school uniforms, foreign policy, marriage…._ Alexander could barely hold in a groan. He’d hoped for an actually constructive class, one that would broaden his thinking, but no. He’d be stuck with the most generic topics possible. He could do this in his sleep._ _

__“You will be assigned pairs and topics,” Mr. Moore said in his quiet, wheedling voice. “These are merely springboards for you to apply your skills with your partner. Next week, we will start presenting our arguments. Very good.”_ _

__As packets were passed down through the class, Alex contemplated jumping off the school roof with distant amusement. It was eight stories, which was fairly high up, even for New York City. He’d get a pretty cathartic splat out of that; yeah, brains on the concrete and everything. Blood everywhere. That would be satisfying._ _

__He didn’t think the hour could get much worse until Mr. Moore announced, “your pairs will be alphabetical.” He felt his heart drop. His fists clenched. Sure enough, the sixth pair on the list was “Jefferson and Hamilton. You can take pro-life.”_ _

__Alex sat stunned. As if Jefferson wasn’t bad enough, _pro-life_? He saw Jefferson’s mouth open and release a loud protest in equal indignation. His lackey pressed a hand over his own mouth, shoulders jerking slightly under his cream-colored sweater. Alex glared straight ahead, pencil in a death grip._ _

__Unfortunately, Jefferson came to him. The taller boy sighed dramatically as he sat back in the seat next to Alexander. “Well,” he drawled, “looks like you and me are in it for the long haul.”_ _

__“It’s ‘you and I.’ And there _is_ no ‘long haul!’” Alex snapped. “I cannot believe this.”_ _

__“Right?! As if the topics weren’t generic enough. You know James got stuck with athletic funding? Still, I’d die to be in his shoes right now.”_ _

__Alex huffed, bristling. “How am I supposed to argue for anti-abortion laws, and with— with you, of all people! It’s obviously inhumane, I will not stand up there and argue for something with _you_ if I don’t even agree with it!”_ _

__“You’re pro-choice?” Jefferson sneered. “Ugh, figures. I’ve got my work cut out for me, I suppose.”_ _

__“You disgust me,” Alexander hissed._ _

__Jefferson raised one eyebrow. “What, like it’s not mutual? Can we just read the packet and get this over with?”_ _

__“Fine!” Alex bit out, whirling back to his desk. He spent the rest of the class scanning his eyes over the blurry words of the packet and taking deep breaths, trying to ignore Jefferson (who was very hard to ignore, seeing as he kept dragging his chair around in a circle, muttering under his breath)._ _

__On his way out, he caught sight of another student hurrying before him, loaded down with books, but conducting himself with an oddly straight posture. The recognition snapped in Alexander’s mind and, still thrumming with the intensity of the period, he hurried after the other boy._ _

__“Excuse me!” he shouted over the quickly escalating din of the hall, tapping the boy on the shoulder._ _

__He stopped and turned with a somewhat pained expression._ _

__Alex took it as an opportunity. “I believe I recognize you from Jefferson’s, ah, cohort. Aaron Burr, correct?”_ _

__The other boy blinked, licked his lips. He had remarkably long eyelashes. “… I am he,” he replied lowly._ _

__Alex bounced. His eyes widened; he was breathless. “Oh, I’ve been dying to meet you, just dying! Pardon me, I’m so sorry I didn’t make a proper introduction, I—!” He broke off, dumping his books and bag on the floor. He straightened himself out. Aaron Burr— _Aaron Burr, this was actually Aaron motherfucking Burr_ — jostled his immense stack of textbooks over to one arm so he could shake Alex’s hand. Mr. Burr’s hand was rough and cool, smaller than he’d expected, and his grip was weak, though he maintained eye contact. Alex thrilled at the touch all the same._ _

__“I have heard _so_ much about you,” he breathed. “At home, I read articles about you all the time. I think I saw your school on vacation once, but you’d already transferred, of course. You advanced with such _finesse_ ; I’ve always wanted to hear how you got here, how you managed to study so much in so little time.“_ _

__Aaron sharply withdrew his hand. He raised his chin. “It isn’t as hard to work alone as you may think… nor to control oneself.” He hugged his books tightly to his chest._ _

__“Alone?”_ _

__“Yes.” He swallowed. “By which I mean without the help of my parents, rest their souls.” He turned to continue down the hallway._ _

__“You— of course! Aaron, I was in the exact same situation!”_ _

__The boy turned. His eyes flickered over Alex’s face, calculating._ _

__“What would I have to gain by lying?” he laughed nervously. His time was running out, students filing into their respective classes. He shifted, desperately eager for both of his paths. “I’m grateful for the competition here, I really am,” he rambled. “It’s refreshing.”_ _

__Aaron nodded._ _

__“I used to live in St. Croix, I grew up there. Where are you from?”_ _

__Aaron’s lips twitched upward. “I should get going. Do you want to grab coffee some time?”_ _

__Alex gasped. “Yeah, I— that sounds nice.”_ _

__He hummed, nodding. “I’ll see you later, then.”_ _

__A sharp nod. “Count on it!”_ _

__When Aaron disappeared up the stairs, Alex ducked into an alcove and whipped his phone out of his pocket. His fingers flashed over the screen. _Holy shit, John!!!!!!!!__ _

**what is it**

_I am getting coffee some time with AARON BURR!!!!!_

**dude why**

**\- hes such an ass**

_Alex hesitated, tremors still pounding through him. _If you prefer I don’t have contact with him, I can cancel._ _

**yooo thats not what i meant**

**\- do what u want dude**

**\- form a study group or whatever it is youre doing**

_Okay. I understand, I hope—_ Alexander breathed, backspacing over the message and then typing, _Thank you. I hope you do understand that you do not relinquish your importance in my life simply because—_ Ugh, no. He deleted again and simply sent _Thanks. <3 I’ll see you at lunch._

He shoved his phone into his pocket and started down the hall before it buzzed again. He half-expected to see a violent objection to the heart, but instead, John had sent, **wanna come over to my place this weekend actually?? like, just by urself or whatever. there wont be any drinking i promise lol**

Alexander’s thumbs flew, face hurting with how hard he was smiling. Overwhelmed with the elation of the past few moments, he felt happy tears spring unbidden to his eyes. _Yes!!!! That sounds wonderful, John!!!!! Absolutely, I would love to. I can’t wait!!_ He hugged his phone to his chest before sprinting down the hall, vaulting up the stairs, breathless for once for a good reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out the chernow bio pages 226-227


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes!!!! That sounds wonderful, John!!!!! Absolutely, I would love to. I can’t wait!!**

John released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Mulligan threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, laughing.

“He did it!” He extended an arm across the table; LaFayette high-fived him, beaming.

“I am very proud of you.”

“Shut up,” John muttered at his phone. The single heart Alex had sent him in the previous text kept catching his eyes, making his chest feel funny. “You’re acting like this is a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” LaFayette said. Their hands were cupping Mulligan’s, sitting on the opposite sides of a table apparently too much distance for the two to handle. The library was quiet, most students busy with their homework; the girl two tables down kept shooting their table nasty looks, but so far no one had told them off.

Peggy Schuyler cleared xyr throat. “Stupid question,” xe started, “but did I just help my sister’s ex-boyfriend score a date?”

“There are no stupid questions,” Mulligan stated matter-of-factly.

LaFayette nodded, face serious. “Only stupid answers.”

John ignored them. “It’s not a date.”

LaFayette nudged xyr shoulder. “Case in point.”

John glared at them. Mulligan laughed, Peggy very obviously trying not to.

“What, can two people not hang out alone without it being considered romantic?” he asked, focusing on Mulligan.

The latter squinted back. “Are you accusing me of being amatonormative?” he asked. LaFayette sat up straighter, apparently ready to fight for their partner’s honour if necessary.

John sighed. “Just saying— by that logic, Jefferson and James are basically married.”

LaFayette sighed. Mulligan kissed their knuckles.

Peggy seemed lost in thought. “They’d make a really cute couple, though.”

“Peggy.”

“What? Height differences.” Xe gestured with xyr arms. “It reminds me of that hamster pic.”

Hercules choked on his chocolate milk.

John frowned. “Hamster pic?”

“I’ll link you,” Hercules offered. LaFayette shook their head ‘no’, visibly disgusted.

John glanced down at his phone. Alex’s last text remained unanswered.

“What should I write back?” he asked. “Does it need an answer?”

“I don’t know.” Peggy leaned forward, wiggled xyr eyebrows. “Does it?”

He frowned.

LaFayette shook their head again. “Do answer the boy, John,” they sighed. “Peggy, cease teasing him.”

“Cease the tease,” Hercules hummed. “That’d make a good slogan.”

“You guys are such dorks.”

Tuning the group out, John slid his fingers across the phone screen. His hands felt sweaty.

_nice ! looking forward to it_

He bit his lip, deleted the message. Looking up, he caught LaFayette’s eyes. They winked.

_cool_

He clicked ‘send’. His face felt as if on fire.

Was that okay? Did it come off as rude? Alex seemed to be okay with using emojis, maybe he should have...

_:)_

He felt like banging his head against the table.

“Oh, that’s cute, send it.” Hercules was leaning over his shoulder. Scowling, John deleted it.

“Don’t read his texts!” Peggy snapped. “You’ll scare him!”

John groaned. “It’s not a date.”

“Didn’t say it was,” xe shot back.

“Yeah, well you were implying—“ he paused. Peggy grinned expectantly. “Never mind.”

“O-kay,” xe chuckled. John felt like punching something.

“Think I’m done,” he announced, got up. “Later.”

Peggy’s face fell. “John, I didn’t mean—“

“Like I’ve said, never mind.”

He could hear their whispers as he walked away. His nails were digging into the soft of his palm.

“Be back in ten minutes,” the supervisor told him, not really looking up. John didn’t bother with a reply.

The bathroom was blissfully empty. He pushed the toilet lid down, squatted down on top of it, breathing heavy. He wasn’t sure what exactly pissed him off that much. It’s not like teasing was unusual with their friend group. Still.

He’d just exited a relationship— probably that. His cheeks still felt hot. Eliza’s face swam into his mind, the things she told him at the party... what did she mean by that? Was she gay? Didn’t sound like coming out. He sighed. His fists unclenched, clenched again.

She probably wasn’t gay.

Was Alex gay?

He sighed, picked up his backpack. There was a small vodka bottle he knew to be in his side-pocket; the situation sort of called for it. His chest still felt funny.

Alex was nice. Alex was fun to talk to. It didn’t make John gay— hell, he liked talking to Mulligan too, and it wasn’t like he’d be into—

He pictured kissing Mulligan— chased the picture away. There was still some sprite in his water bottle. He poured the Grey Goose in, put the now empty bottle back.

It’s not like they meant anything bad, they were just wrong. They’d be upset to if someone was to continuously insinuate that Angelica was straight. It was an unfunny joke.

“I’m not overreacting.”

He took a sip of his drink. It tasted pretty shitty.

_I’m not gay._

He was probably overreacting. He’d have to apologize. He took another sip, tried not to grimace.

Alex could get the wrong idea, take them seriously; he’d probably get weirded out. Some straight guys were uncomfortable with men being into them, maybe Alex would be too. Either way, it’d impact their friendship and John had every right not to want that.

He’d still have to apologize to Peggy.

Another sip. A warmth settled in the pit of his stomach. He pulled out his phone, the conversation with Alex still open. He only hesitated for a moment.

_:)_

—

“I’ll return here at 5 ‘o’clock sharp. You’re sure you won’t stay longer?”

Alex fiddled with his hoodie string. He looked disgusting in sharp contrast to the enormous establishment before him. John’s house looked even more extravagant in daylight. He made a mental note to berate himself later. “Yes.”

“Right, well… have fun.” Washington gave him an awkward squeeze on the shoulder.

Alex offered a small smile in return. He braced himself, then stepped out of the car and strode up to John’s door. He stepped carefully on the stone path, not daring to leave prints in the lush grass. He took hold of the heavy brass knocker and banged it against the door.

John appeared almost instantly. His smile was apparent even as he bit his cheek. “Hey hey hey, it’s my man Alexander!”

Alex suppressed his grin as he stepped inside. “John Laurens himself,” he replied. The house smelled like cleaning supplies. “You clean up nice.”

“Well— you can thank Mulligan and LaFayette for that.”

The next thing he noticed was a large, blood-red confederate flag hanging above the stairs. His nose wrinkled involuntarily. His chest prickled.

“It’s my dad’s,” John explained, voice soaked in apology. “C’mon, let’s get upstairs quick.”

“Avoiding something?”

John paused— winked. Before Alex could follow him on his path up the stairs, however, a high voice startled him.

“John, is that your friend?” A young girl of about ten peeked out from the living room. Shiny brown hair lay straight against her shoulders. Her bright, blue eyes were fixed on Alex. Her sharp, pale nose accentuated her curious features.

“You bet. This is Alex Hamilton. Alex, this is my sister, Mary.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Oh, I didn’t know you had—“

“ _Half_ -sister,” Mary emphasized.

John rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he figured that out.”

Alex approached the girl, kneeling down. “It’s nice to meet you,” he offered. “You seem like a very intelligent child.”

Mary took hold of Alex’s ponytail. He smiled and let her. “Your hair is pretty,” she said, “but it’s not as pretty as John’s.”

“I agree with you there.”

She squinted at him. “You look like a girl.”

He jerked away. His scalp itched. His face went hot.

“Mary, that’s rude,” John scolded.

“What? I’m just being _honest_.”

John rolled his eyes again. “We’re going upstairs now.”

“Okay, _upstairs_ -guy.”

Alex gratefully followed John up to his room, face still burning.

“Ugh. I’m sorry about that. She’s going through this blunt phase. Won’t shut up.”

“It’s fine,” he bit out. He ran his hand over his hair. “She was, she was absent during the festivities?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Sleepover at a friend’s place, probably painting her nails or something.” John opened the door to his room and led Alex inside. “This is a mess, but…”

“No,” Alex assessed. “I like it.” The bedcovers and curtains were a soft green. The clutter looked cheerful, not insulting. A picture of a laughing girl he vaguely recognized as Martha Manning sat on his desk, and a photo of LaFayette and Mulligan was taped to his mirror. His heart warmed. Scanning the room, he saw no pictures of Eliza.

He did, however, catch sight of a highly interesting, large glass tank by the window. He rushed over and peered inside. He laughed. “Is that a turtle?”

“Yeah!” John bent down beside him. “He’s from Eliza. Early birthday present.” Alex noticed him smiling softly. John straightened, and reached into the tank. He gingerly extracted the slow, confused-looking animal and cradled it gently in his hands. “Hey, buddy. Meet my friend Alex.” He met the other’s eyes. “Be careful, he bites.”

Alex couldn’t help but smile. _Like Mary_ , he thought.

“He’s soft-shelled—“

“Yes, Apalone spinifera!” Alex chimed in.

John beamed. “Yep, that’s it! Haven’t thought of a name for the little dude, though.”

“How about Phillip?”

He frowned bemusedly. “Like Eliza’s dad?”

Alex flushed. “Well, I didn’t— It’s just a nice name, I almost….” He trailed off.

“It is. Okay, he’s Phillip now.” John gave the turtle a couple little strokes, then slowly inserted him back in his tank, near the bountiful water bowl. “Good call.”

“It’s an acquired skill.”

“Just a sec!” John whipped out his phone from his pocket. “Here, lean down, you Christened the guy.” He threw up a peace sign, and Alex did the same, his head leaning in close to John’s shoulder so he could take a picture of the two of them (and Phillip). He smelled good, like— like cinnamon and citrus and something darker, indiscernible but overwhelming. Alex thought back to how he’d first seen the back of John’s jaw, that subtle _boy_ -ness that filled him with some shameful mixture of excitement and hurt.

Alex returned to the other side of the bed to sit. John jumped— literally jumped— back over his bed to sit on the edge. Alex giggled. He noticed, suddenly, that he was in the same position Eliza had been in. He went silent, warm.

He noticed a textbook lying on the floor near his foot. He bent, picked it up. “You’re learning Spanish?”

John blew a strand of hair from his face. “In a sense.”

“Excellent.” He flipped through a few pages. It seemed like fairly rudimentary coursework.

“Well yeah, I figured I should. I think my dad’s a little pissed, but, y’know. My mom spoke it, I think.”

Alex nodded. “I’m fluent in Spanish. I could help you study some time.”

“Fluent!”

“Yes, in French and some biblical Hebrew, as well. I’m trying to learn a more conversational dialect, though.”

“Damn, boy, where’d you get all the time to learn this stuff?”

“I had a lot of time,” he replied shortly. He turned. “Do you think I look like a girl?”

John scanned his face curiously, met his eyes. “Nah.”

Alex nodded. “Anyway.” He swallowed. Shit, he was so awkward around this guy. John probably thought he was some kind of idiot. “Do you like the history course?”

“I like watching you bounce in your seat every time you wanna ask a question.”

And there it was again. Alex’s voice caught in his throat. “Well, it’s… fascinating, at least to me. I can’t imagine not being highly invested in events and ideas that so shaped this nation. As horrible as it has been, it’s unique in a— in a captivating way.”

John gently punched his arm. “That’s ‘cause you’re a nerd. And also probably because you’ve never had to live in South Carolina.”

“Oh, shit. You lived _there_?”

“Yeah, dude. Well, before mom died, and we moved up here.”

“… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” John rubbed a hand over his mouth, frowning. “I like New York.”

“I just meant, I,” Alex stammered. He shrugged. “The same thing happened with me, well, kind of. My mother, she… died when I was twelve. So I do understand, to a certain extent. I won’t condescend you.”

“Oh.” John swallowed. “Yeah, um. Well. My dad’s is the only confederate flag I can see for miles, so that’s an improvement.”

Alex laughed, his shoulders unclenching. “Yes, that’s always an improvement.”

“LaF and Mulligan are pretty okay too, I guess.” John smiled. His freckles looked like little stars. “I’m joking! So… how ‘bout you? You’re new here, right?”

Alex breathed. “It’s unimportant. I’m here now.”

“Oh, c’mon. I’m not gonna judge you, or anything.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that.”

“If you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine. You just seem really smart, I should know where you picked it up.”

Alex felt a warm stir of pride in spite of himself. “Well, I’m self-taught, mostly. That’s just the way it was, so I couldn’t really tell you what the education system is actually like from first-hand experience. I’m glad to be here, though, I’m glad to be here.” He could feel himself detaching from the words. He quickly changed topics. “How are you doing, really? I know that the situation with Eliza can’t be pleasant for you.”

It was blunt as all hell, but John didn’t seem to mind. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be. We don’t text as much. She says she wants to be friends, so it’s really my fault, I guess. Just been too lazy to reply properly.”

Alex swallowed. “You must have loved her.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” John glanced at him. “Do you? How about you, loverboy, any girl in your life?”

“Not right now.” Alex licked his lips, ventured, “no boy, either.”

“Oh?” something in John’s demeanor changed. Slow, almost stiff. Quieter. “Have you dated boys?”

“Once.” Alex nodded and cracked his knuckles. “Where I came from. Neddie.” It was hard to remember, but he could do it, in a painful, foggy sort of way. He wrapped his arms around himself, reminding.

“… Are you gay?” John asked.

“I’m bisexual.”

He tilted his head the slightest amount. He tapped his fingers on his knee. Alex was sure he’d done something wrong, revealed too much. But John asked hesitantly, “when did you figure it out?”

“I was about twelve, I think. But I always kinda knew. I didn’t have much time for that sort of thing, but…” He shrugged. “I always liked boys, and I always liked girls. Nonbinary people too, of course, once I discovered that. It was just a relief when I found out I didn't have to pick.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. So, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Alex blinked. Then he realized, beamed. “Yeah, we should find a movie online in Spanish! That way you can practice! You have wonderful priorities, John.” His hands flew. “Computer?”

John smiled and slowly shook his head. He stretched and pulled out his laptop from under his bed, handing it over.

“Great! So we’ll want to find one that I haven’t seen yet either, not just for my own curiosity, of course, but so I can get practice, too….” He worried at his lower lip. “Is an indie film okay for you? I can’t fucking stand blockbusters.”

“Yeah man, I’ll live.”

Alex searched feverishly until he _finally_ found something suitable for John, then fired it up. He absentmindedly fidgeted with his hair while the movie played, balancing the warming computer on his knees and translating the parts John didn’t understand. He explained the idioms with great delight. He didn’t even blame himself for tearing up a bit halfway through, though he quickly glared and scrubbed the tears away. And when he eventually found himself sitting much closer to John Laurens than he had started out, well, he couldn’t exactly blame himself for that, either.

—

John Adams huffed, shuffling the papers in his hands and clicking through the windows on his laptop. He refreshed his email one more time before grabbing another piece of licorice and beginning to chew. This week’s newspaper would only be seven pages: two less than the previous month’s average.

He cracked his knuckles and leaned back. His shoulders were sore, and the fading light glowing in the near-empty classroom made his eyelids heavy.

James Madison, a couple desks away from him, licked the flap of an envelope and neatly folded it over. “Nothing new, I suppose?”

He sighed. “Nothing but more junk from that muck-raker Angelica Schuyler. I would never publish something from her… posse. Thank heavens no one I know hangs around those people.”

James nodded. “Mm.”

“At least the content is decent.” Adams swallowed the candy, checking his phone. There were no new messages, but Abigail’s bright smile shone up at him from his lock screen. He smiled back and tucked it away. “More than half of our submissions this week were on paper— real paper, James. That kind of respect is why I keep taking this job seriously.”

“Yes, it’s quite serious.”

He smiled. This was why he liked Madison: he didn’t cause a fuss. They agreed on the important things.

His editor’s phone chirped. James pulled it out of his pocket and straightened slightly, a trace of a smile spreading across his features.

“Who is it?”

“Thomas.”

Adams felt his stomach sour, but tried not to show it. “Why didn’t he invite me to your study session last week?”

“We had a pair project,” Madison answered casually. “We were just busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“Lemonade.”

“Lemonade?”

“Yes.”

Adams frowned as he watched Madison chuckle lightly at his phone and text back. “What is it now?”

“Nothing big. Believe you me.”

Adams was about to sigh again (while James’ reservation was enjoyable, he sometimes went overboard) when a new email popped up in his inbox.

He started and opened the message. “Looks like we’ve got some new material, Madison!” he thrilled. As he read, a slow grin crept across his face. “Charles Lee wants me to publish a critique.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: false accusations of pedophilia (first scene), parental emotional manipulation (second scene), homophobic slurs (third scene), brief description of sex (also third scene)
> 
> have fun :)

“You gotta tell me, what did he say?”

Alexander set his tray down next to John’s, laughing. “Well, you know, he doesn’t say much. Just—” he coughed and put his hand up to his mouth. “’The advancement necessary for such a course—‘“

Mulligan puffed up his chest and lowered his voice. “ _The advancement necessary for such a course—_ ”

“Yes, that! Anyway, so he told me that I’d have to pass the Econ test before taking year two, basically.”

John rested his cheek on his hand. “Well, no shit.”

“I mean, _yes_ , but he knows I could take the test and get at least a four, he just doesn’t want to….” He trailed off as Angelica approached the table, hips swaying. He snapped his eyes up quick from her hips to her face, flushing. “Angelica Schuyler! Hello!”

“Hi, Alexander.” She ruffled his hair. He shivered. Then, her face darkened. “You read the school newspaper yet?”

“There’s a paper? I didn’t know! Do you have a copy?”

She cringed, sitting down beside LaFayette, who peered over her shoulder with arched eyebrows. “You might wanna see this.”

She handed over a sheaf of stapled-together printer paper. Alex’s own face was splashed on the cover. He snatched it, his blood heating as his eyes raced over the page. “What the hell is this?”

John grabbed it. His eyes widened, then narrowed at it, mouth slowly falling open. “ _Lee?_ Oh, this can’t fucking be for real.”

Alex bent over his shoulder. “Do I even know this asshole?”

“No!”

“He’s had a grudge on Washington since he gave him detention in his first year,” LaFayette explained. “He is always trying to—“

“ _Favoritism?_ “ John interjected. “I know you wouldn’t do that. Jesus. Alex. You’re not like that, and…” His face went white. “Oh.”

Alex grabbed the paper again, squinted. “Is he insinuating…? Oh, Christ, he’s insinuating that….”

“I shouldn’t have brought—“ Angelica tried, but John’s voice was getting loud.

“What the actual _hell_? I didn’t think he’d stoop this low, I didn’t think that he’d say— that he would— and Washington, he, he, he wouldn’t be…. Alex!” He whirled in his seat to face him. “He didn’t, did he? He didn’t. He—“

“No.” Alexander shook his head emphatically. His chest was practically vibrating, his whole body brittle. A disembodied laugh rose high in his throat. “I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve been accused of doling out sexual favors to whomever may help me, but this is a whole new level.” He mentally flashed back to Washington’s tense shoulders, tired eyes. “Should I confront him? Christ. I want—“

John was standing up. “I’ll teach that prick a fucking lesson.”

“John, this is not a smart idea,” LaFayette gently pushed, but John was already striding through the cafeteria.

Alexander hopped up and ran after him, heartbeat fast. “He’ll pay for this, I swear, I can publish something in the same damn paper he used against me, you’ll see! We can polish it so much it’ll make him eat his words. John— John?”

He was staring straight ahead. Alex looked down— John’s fists were clenched so hard, his knuckles were pure white.

“John—“

“Lee, you mother _fucker_!” John shouted down at a lanky boy with dark hair and terrified eyes.

Charles Lee stood up, fidgeting. “Um...“

John grabbed his shirtfront. “You write that shit? You write that shit about him?”

Alex licked his lips. “John, you—“

He heard a sickening crunch, and Lee stumbled backwards, hands over his face. John was breathing hard. “Hit me back, huh?!” he yelled. “Hit me! Fucking hit me, you coward! You COWARD!”

Lee started stuttering, “You’ll pay for—“ but heaved with a swift shove to his shoulders.

“HIT ME, FUCKER!” John screamed. “HIT ME, HIT ME—“

He did, hard. A quiet bubble had formed around them. John barely stumbled, eyes suddenly vacant. A slow trickle of blood ran into his lip. “You don’t just say shit like that about people,” he hissed. “You don’t say that shit, not about him.”

Alex watched in frozen horror. His hands were clamped over his mouth. Dizzy.

“What should I say, then? That he got here on scholarship? For hard work?!” Lee shook violently, his voice shrill. “What work? What skills? He pops up here, suddenly at the top of every class, and you expect me to say he didn’t sell a few drugs or suck Washington’s dick? You expect me to think that—“

They were both on the ground in a blink. John’s fists hit him over, and over, and Alex finally jerked into action.

His hands flew to John’s erratic shoulders. “This isn’t necessary!”

“The HELL it—“ John got cut off with a ripping sound. A clump of his hair was clutched in Lee’s hand. He smacked his face. “The fuck. You fight like a little girl, you know that?”

“John, just cut it out!”

“ENOUGH!”

The whole area went silent as George Washington strode onto the scene. John suddenly froze, hand mid-air. He clambered off Lee, shrinking. His arms raised slowly in front of his face.

“What on Earth is going on here?” Washington demanded. “Someone call the nurse! John Laurens.” His voice dropped to a terrifying level. Alex could see John closing his eyes.

“I instigated it!” he shouted. Everyone turned to look at Alex. He felt suspended, everything in sharp definition. “It’s my fault. Lee said that—“

“I don’t care _what_ Lee said.”

Alex shrank, then burst back. “I was the one who started the fight! John was just defending me! If you want to punish him, you’ll have to punish me, too!”

Washington’s gaze swept the room. “Is that correct?” The rest of the students remained silent, gawking. Charles Lee was slowly rising up on his elbows, coughing, face a blood-smeared mess. “Very well. Alexander, you’re coming with me.” Alex flinched as Washington’s huge hand gripped his arm. “John… I am terribly disappointed in you. Don’t think this won’t get you a call home.”

John was whispering something repeatedly to himself, but Alex couldn’t hear it. He reached for his friend— was steered firmly away by Washington’s steel grip. His arm was still outstretched when they left the room.

The drive home was icy cold. Alexander felt every speed bump, every twitch of the wheel; he bit his lip brutally, drawing the copper blood into his mouth. His hands twitched. _John, John, John._

Alex tried to hurry upstairs when they stepped inside, but Washington’s strained voice called him. “We need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about!” Alex snapped.

“Sit down right now, young man.”

He froze. Slowly, he sat at the kitchen table, hid his hands. Washington sat across from him, hands clasped together, knuckles white.

“What on Earth were you thinking?”

“He spoke badly of you! Of both of us.” Alexander shook. It would be easier if Washington were yelling. But his deep, resounding voice sounded less angry, more disappointed. _Disappointed._ There wasn’t a worse tone.

“Harsh words do _not_ call for physical violence.”

“John—“

“Mr. _Laurens_ ,” Washington intoned, “hadn’t gotten into a fight in a year and a half.”

Alex swallowed. His throat ached.

“He is one of my best students.”

“He’s smart enough to pick his own fights,” Alexander pushed, burning through the shame.

“Smart, but not wise. Son—“

Alex’s voice came out little. “Don’t call me that.”

“— I want you to build friendships.”

“You—“

“But this kind of violence is unacceptable. I do not want you two spending time together if you have this influence on each other.”

Alex blanched. His heart stopped. “You wouldn’t. I can’t be... I can’t.”

“Son—“

“Stop.”

“I want you both to be safe.”

“If I can’t be around John, I don’t want to be here.”

“Son, listen to me—“

“Stop CALLING me that!” Alexander screamed. His chair shrieked back. His fists clutched his hair. Scalp hurt. “Stop it, stop it!”

“Alexander.”

He sprung up. “No one’s EVER called me that, you understand?” Unbidden, tears stung his eyes. He wiped them fiercely away. His voice broke. “Not once.”

“Please sit down.”

“Not until you promise I can still see John!”

Washington sighed, temples in his hands.

Alex’s face was hot, messy. “Don’t— don’t you dare, you— he’s good. He’s _nice_ to me. He’s better than you.”

“Alex…”

“FUCK you!”

“Go to your room.” Washington glared up at him. “Now.”

Alexander, seething, stormed up the stairs. He slammed the door and screamed at it, voice hoarse and broken. He kicked it. It hurt his foot. _Good._

He punched his thighs, hard, repeatedly. It was sure to leave a bruise. It had to.

When his hands got tired, he scrambled for his phone. _John?_ he texted rapidly. _Are you there?_ He swiped at his face angrily. _Pelase tell me you’re okay. Oh G-d. Oh y g-d._ He shoved his phone face-down, breathing heavily. He desperately tried to right himself. His heart rate wouldn’t slow, wouldn’t let up; he could feel it in his whole body: hot, pulsing.

He ripped off his shirt and binder, gasping. The pounding feeling only worsened. He stared down at his breasts, sickened. He crossed his arms over himself and rocked and rocked.

Panic shocked through him in waves, even after he shakily donned his T-shirt and hoodie again, and shook out his hair. Reading only made him angrier. Anxiously, he checked his phone every half-hour, timing himself, sending a few more blurry messages now and then. Trying to deny his desperation. His head swam at the threat: _no John. No time with John. No— Fuck._

No reply.

When Washington’s footsteps ascended the stairs, Alexander turned on his side, pretending to sleep with his eyes frowned closed and the lights on.

Washington sat on his bed, a guilty weight. “Alexander.”

He squinched his eyes harder.

Washington sighed. “Did you take your medication today?”

“Not everything is about my g-ddamn medication,” Alex rasped.

A hand settled his shoulder. It was heavy. Alexander trembled, suddenly bone-tired. “I just want to help you.”

“It’s like you think— they all think— think I’m not even trying,” Alex hiccupped. “Like I never, like I never even try.” He rubbed his burning eyes, curling in on himself.

Washington was silent.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Alex hissed. “Hell, I— I’m trying so hard.” Hot tears leaked down his cheeks. He hated how weak and frail he must appear. How ugly.

Washington pulled him up and into a hug. Alex curled into his broad chest, crying into his shoulder.

“It must have been hard for you.”

Alexander sniffed.

“I should have talked it over before.”

“No. My fault.” Alex pulled back, wiped his eyes and nose. “I just… please don’t make me not be friends. I can’t handle…. Don’t leave me alone. Please. I’m sorry.”

“We can work it out. I still stand by what I said, but I’ll give you another shot. _Please_ use it wisely, Alexander.”

He nodded hastily. “Yes, sir.”

Washington shifted. “We can talk about what happened, if you’d like.”

“I thought the custodian told you,” Alex stalled.

“I meant what happened before you came to America. The reason why you’re here.”

 _I’m here because I worked my ass off_ , Alex wanted to say, but he held his tongue. He could only tempt fate so much. “Not tonight,” he answered instead, twisting his ponytail. “We can, just not tonight, please, sir.”

“Soon, then.” Washington’s hand returned to Alexander’s shoulder. “We can… have lunch.”

Alexander almost laughed. He pictured himself and Professor Washington daintily nibbling piragua while discussing how crazy he was. How sick. “Steak,” he answered instead with a half-smile. “I’ve always wanted to talk my feelings out over a manly steak dinner.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Washington replied. “You should get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s George.” The man stood, awkwardly smoothing the blanket. “And, Alex... please remember to take your medication tomorrow.”

A curt nod.

Washington switched off the lights on his way out. Alexander huddled into his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest to keep away the cavern that threatened to stretch there, tingling as he was with a strange mixture of warmth and guilt and the sense of deep, innate brokenness. He checked his phone one more time.

His messages were still unread.

—

The doors behind them closed with a soft _thump_. His father paused to take off his suit jacket, still not meeting John's eyes. 

John stood there, barely breathing. Henry Laurens took his time.

“John.“

“Dad?”

Henry sighed. “Was today fun for you?”

John paused, unsure how to proceed. His father finally looked at him.

“’Cause it wasn’t fun for me.”

“I know,” John muttered. Henry’s face was stone. “I’m sorry.”

Another beat of silence. John wondered if it’d be okay to just walk to his room.

“Is ‘sorry’ really all you have to say?”

John looked down, shrugged. “I— don’t know what else to tell you.”

“No excuses?”

He shrugged again. “I know what I did.”

“I had to leave work early because of this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how inconvenient this whole thing is?” The irritation in his father’s voice was becoming increasingly audible. “Have you any idea how bad this will look in your school record?”

John said nothing.

“I really thought you’d learned the lesson last time— punching someone on school grounds because they disagreed with you?”

“It wasn’t like tha—“

“I’ve pulled on a lot of ties to smooth this over, John.” Henry’s eyes were boring into his. “Put myself into quite an awkward position.”

John bit down on his tongue. Henry stared him down, clock ticking away seconds.

“After everything I’ve done for you.” Henry sighed, straightened up. “You have everything a boy your age could need. With the way your friends are forced to live, one would think you’d know to appreciate that.”

“I know—“

“I satisfy your ridiculous whims, I turn a blind eye to you constantly stealing my alcohol—“

John’s heart skipped a beat. Henry didn’t seem to notice.

“I make sure you get every opportunity there is to—“

“You know?” He couldn’t help himself. Henry stopped, frowned. “About— you know I drink?”

Henry laughed. It didn’t feel warm. “You’re not that stealthy, John.”

“You don’t—“ He paused. Henry’s scowl deepened.

“Please use actual words.“

“You don’t mind?” It flew out in one shaky breath. John paused, met his father’s eyes.

“I did not.” Henry’s voice was cold again. “Until you decided to start getting into fights during school hours.”

He tried to stop himself— failed. “But—“

“I trust you with my belongings, I trust you with my house on the weekends, I don’t read your mail or check your phone— as many parents do, I’ll have you know.” Henry reached out a hand, face stern. “Maybe it was a mistake on my end.”

John stared at the open palm, mind deafeningly silent.

“John.” His father’s voice echoed. “Give me your phone.”

His chest felt empty. “What?”

Henry’s brow was furrowed, eyes determined. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

John didn’t move.

“John.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have given you my trust and you played it,” Henry insisted. “These are the consequences.”

“But—“

“If you have nothing to hide, you shouldn’t feel worried.” His father’s voice was too calm, too casual. “And if you do, I have a right to know.”

There was a beat.

“John, please.” He was whispering now. “Don’t make another scene.”

Mary poked her head into the living room, face worried. “Is everything okay?”

Henry turned around, smiled at her. “Of course, sweetie.” He turned back at John. “Your brother is just being stubborn again.”

Mary laughed. “Mum says he gets it from you!”

Henry smiled. “Maybe.” He met John’s eyes again. Oddly numb, John reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone.

“Thank you,” were Henry’s words as the iPhone was placed in his palm. “Was that so scary?”

John didn’t reply.

“I’ll also be taking your laptop.” He placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “You will get it back once your suspension is over.”

“What?” Mary screamed, rushing into the room. “Did John get suspended?” She stepped in between them, stared up at her brother.

“I almost got my nose broken.” He smiled down at her. It felt strained. He was so tired.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Mary scowled. “It’ll swell up all big and you’ll look like those other boys on the TV.”

Henry laughed. John tried to mimic it.

They walked up the stairs, Mary lagging behind. Henry instructed her to go to her room, followed John into his.

“You have that boy as your background.” He noted as John unplugged his laptop. “Alexander?”

John didn’t dare look at his father. His hands were shaking slightly.

“You two are close?”

“We just met.” His voice was shaking too. “He’s new.”

“Hm.” Henry was squinting at the phone. “Is that your turtle?”

“Phillip.”

“He was here?”

“Last week.”

“Was Mary home?”

John finally looked up, tried to read his father’s expression. “Yes.”

“They met?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Henry slid the phone into his pocket. “I’ll ask her about him.”

John nodded. Henry walked over, picked up the laptop bag.

“Trust takes a lot of time to rebuild, John.” He patted his shoulder. “Don’t play with it.”

“Okay.”

“We are the only family you’ve got.”

“I know.”

“You do not realize this yet, but I am the only person you can truly trust.”

John pressed his lips together. The phone— John’s phone— went off with the new message alert.

“Use this time to think about your actions. Focus on your schoolwork.” Henry squeezed his shoulder, smiled. “Okay?”

“Can I at least see the message?”

“John.”

“People are probably worried.”

“I’ll let them know you’re safe.” Henry smiled again. “You have to trust me.”

“Okay.” There was a moment of silence. Henry took a step back.

“I’ll call you down for dinner.”

John felt his chest constrict. He pushed it down. “Okay.”

“I still love you.”

He felt his eyes prickle hot. “You too, dad.”

“Are you going to cry about this?”

John straightened up. “No.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

Henry left the room muttering under his breath. John pressed a hand to his mouth, tried not to make a sound.

Shit.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

He hadn’t told his dad about LaFayette’s gender, but he could pull the pronouns off as a French thing— their relationship with Mulligan, though, his father wouldn’t understand— and Alex, he’d get the wrong idea—

There was wetness on his face. He wiped it away, angry.

He fucked up, he fucked everything up— it was as if he could physically feel his dad scrolling through his messages, his pictures— it was so stupid, he knew his dad was right but—

Those conversations were _safe_. They were safe and now his dad was tearing through them—

“Get yourself together,” he whispered. He was biting on his lip so hard it was starting to taste like blood. “Man up. Jesus Christ.”

He wanted to text LaFayette, he wanted Mulligan to make a joke about his father being sexually frustrate— _crap, he’ll see that now_. John rubbed at his temples, shook his head. He wanted Alex.

Mary’s voice, chatting away excitedly, floated up from downstairs. John sat down by his bed, wrapped both arms around his knees.

He wanted a drink.

—

“So, you hear about what happened with Laurens and the new kid?”

James felt himself groan inside when Thomas leaned conspiratorially forward on his elbows. He bit the end of his pencil, averting his eyes to the book in front of him. His bagged lunch sat half-uneaten, shoved aside to make room for study materials.

“Honestly, I’d hoped better, coming from him,” Aaron said coolly. “I suppose it’s only more to say for setting a low bar.”

“I heard Lee got a pretty strict talking-to, too. I saw him blathering on about ‘freedom of the press,’” Thomas laughed. “It’s just hilarious that Hamilton’s sidekick can’t even seem to control his own impulses.”

James remarked, “Yes, what a shame it would be to be close to someone who has the proficiency for running into fights without first considering the appropriateness or consequences.”

Thomas’ elbow jutted into his arm. “Did you see the look on Laurens’ _face_ , though? Oh, man. Priceless.”

John Adams shifted uncomfortably on the other side of Thomas. “Don’t you think it’s sort of… strange, how close he’s gotten to Laurens?”

James took a deep breath. The words of his textbook blurred in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” Thomas sneered. “He went and buddied up to him as soon as I gave him our offer. Awfully close to that Schuyler break-up, too.”

“Yes, we were at that party,” said James, a tense reminder. “I remember it quite clearly.”

John Adams leaned in and whispered, as if telling a dirty secret, “I’m pretty sure Hamilton’s a fag. No other reason he’d act like that around another boy, it’s just not normal.”

“Ten bucks says Laurens is a fag, too,” Thomas shot back.

James muttered, “Actually, I’m pretty sure Hamilton’s bisexual,” but was ignored.

As usual, Aaron said nothing.

Adams gasped, “John Laurens? No!”

Thomas laughed again and sipped his water. The sound stirred a cold flip in James’ stomach. “You are so naïve. Everyone’s known Laurens has been a fruit since he moved here and started hangin’ around Gilbert.”

“No, surely…. I’m on very good terms with his father. We went to the same church for a couple of years!” Adams’ voice was rising. “There can’t be that many— he dated Eliza!”

“Yes, well, the world is full of liars,” James snapped, a little colder than he’d meant to. He could feel Thomas’ eyes flicker to him.

“… Either way, I’m disappointed.” Adams crossed his arms. “He could do so much better than to befriend someone we all know will be a bad influence on him.”

“Thomas.” James stood abruptly, gathered his things. “I’m not hungry. Are you?”

Thomas smirked, raised an eyebrow. “Not for this garbage.”

“In that case, I’d rather move somewhere where I can study in peace and quiet. Would you care to join me?”

“Sure thing.”

He turned to Adams and Burr (who still hadn’t looked up from his own book), and managed a small smile. “As much as I would love to remain and discuss the personal sexual history of a sordid stranger, I’m afraid I have to leave. Thank you, gentlemen.” He walked crisply out of the cafeteria, Thomas on his heels.

He led him quickly to the sixth-floor boys’ bathroom that had been broken-down for years and immediately shoved his bag off his shoulder and onto the floor. “Come here.”

“What’s that?” Thomas smirked and crossed his arms over that ridiculous silk shirt. “You’ve forgotten how to talk civilly?” Nevertheless, he set his things on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas, I know you’re under pressure, but if you don’t drop that act with me right now, I’m walking out of here.” James grit his teeth.

“Jeez, this Hamilton kid has got you even more strung-out than usual—“

James grabbed Thomas by the collars of his shirt and backed him into the last stall of the room, locking it. He rose up and crushed their mouths together. He felt Thomas go slack, bending down and up into the kiss. James shut his eyes tight, absorbing himself in the all-too-familiar taste of Thomas’ mouth, the feeling of his hands in his hair.

“Touch me, oh my G-d, touch me,” Tom softly whisper-babbled, completely different from his façade with the others.

“Good,” was all James could manage before he pressed his boyfriend against the wall, banging his shin on the empty toilet paper rack, digging in his fingernails behind his ear the way he knew he liked but where no one could see. No one could see.

Five minutes later, he shoved Thomas onto his knees, and 20 minutes after that, James was zipping his khakis back up and running his hand through Thomas’ hair while the other boy hugged James’ legs and trembled, arms wrapped around his thighs and face buried in his hip.

“Thomas,” he reminded him gently. “We’re going to be late for class.”

“I don’t wanna go. Jesus, I don’t wanna go.” His voice was thick and ragged.

“I know, honey.”

“Wanna go to the library?” Thomas slurred. “Please, c’mon, just wanna see you. I just wanna see you.”

James gently unclasped Thomas’ arms and knelt beside him, level. He carefully ran his fingers over Thomas’ face and through his hair, tracing every sculpted feature. He kissed him sweetly, and could taste himself there. He felt Thomas’ hands squeeze his wool-covered shoulders. “You can’t keep whining.”

“I _know_ , but— how are you—“ Thomas scrubbed furiously at his face. “How are you so calm about it? All the time?”

“It makes me angry, too.”

“Not the way it makes me angry!” Thomas hissed. But his voice was still quiet, vulnerable. James kept stroking his face. “I don’t know how you can just sit there, I know I can’t just sit there and be smart the way you are, it’s gotta go somewhere, and all it goes is….”

“You don’t really hate them.”

“I do. Hell, I do, sugar. I’d punch someone like that for you if I could. If I _could._ ”

“You have.” James kissed his forehead. “You punched Jay in fifth grade when he got mud on my sweater.”

“It’s not the same. He’s so….”

Thomas couldn’t bring himself to compliment him, but they both knew what he was thinking. _Brave._

“We’re going to be late,” James repeated.

His boyfriend looked at him with such raw _need_ that James felt himself shatter. “Library?” he whispered.

“No. But you can come over this weekend. We can spend some time together.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” James kissed him on the cheek. “Now get off your knees before they get stuck that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to read fluffy jeffmads trash thats part of this universe but doesnt fit properly in this fic, you can read them [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6228364/chapters/14270554)
> 
> you can also find us on tumblr if you want!! The_Onion_Wanton is the-onion-slut and Caledfwlch is trans-jedi, and/or you can follow the sideblog trans-hamilton!
> 
> thanks for reading, as always! comments and kudos are very appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry there was no update last week!! i (caledfwlch) had to grind out some school stuff for the end of the quarter. but were back and updates should stay weekly unless one of us has a conflict!
> 
> warning in this chapter for a brief mention of rape wrt abortion when alex and john are discussing the debate, but nothing graphic

“I've said it before,“ Martha Manning announced, draped over the back of the bench, “but I fucking hate Henry Laurens.”

“Hell yeah,” Peggy muttered. Xyr face was buried in Eliza’s shoulder, early-morning hour apparently not kind to xyr general mood.

“Did he say anything else?” Angelica asked. Her hair was pinned back, eyes focused. Eliza knew she was worried too; they all were. John had been doing so well recently. 

She couldn’t help but feel as if she could have done more, as if none of this mess would have happened had she put in more of an effort into their friendship. She bit into her lip, curled her fingers. 

Martha rolled her eyes, sighed. She looked tired. “Just that he thinks I’m a nice girl, someone whose influence John could do with, yadda yadda.”

“No offense, Manning,” Peggy spoke up— Martha blew xem a kiss. “But isn’t Eliza a whole lot nicer?”

“Peggy!” Eliza exclaimed, just as both Angelica and Martha nodded. 

“Totally.” 

“Yes.”

“He might be pretending John’s acting out because of the break-up, don’t know.” Angelica tapped her fingers against her thighs; the varnish was chipped, the surrounding skin picked on. “Which is total bullshit, but—“

“How did that even happen?” Martha asked. Eliza shrugged, leaned back.

“That boy is a mystery to everyone, most of all himself,” Angelica spat. “Surprises are a norm with him.”

Martha frowned. Eliza shrugged again.

“Don’t mind her.” Peggy leaned in conspiratorially. “She thinks it’s her fault.”

“What?” Martha’s head whipped up. “That makes even less sense?”

“Less than what?” Eliza’s question was cut off as Peggy spoke up again.

“She showed him the newspaper.”

“Oh, Ang.” Martha reached up, grabbed the older girl’s hand. “They’d find out sooner or later.”

Angelica shrugged. Eliza knew it was as close as they’d get to an agreement.

“And speaking of unnecessary guilt.” Martha turned back to her. “You.”

Eliza met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“Stop chewing yourself up about it.” Peggy gently touched her shoulder. Eliza smiled at xem. “It’s not ‘cause you broke up with him.”

“Thanks, Peggy.”

Peggy met xyr sister’s eyes. Angelica sighed.

“She doesn’t believe me.”

“I know, boo.”

“Bluh.”

“Seriously, Eliza—“

Someone walked past them. Eliza jumped up, recognizing the face.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, squeezed her sister’s hand, rushed after the passer-by. Alexander Hamilton had already put quite a good distance between them, his pace quick, eyes sharp. Eliza broke into a light run, not wanting to shout after anyone this early in the morning. He slowed down near the school entrance.

She lightly touched his shoulder, smiled. “Alex?”

He flinched, turned around; his eyes were bloodshot and cold, the bags under them heavy.

“Could I speak to you?”

“As you wish,” he replied, voice coarse. His eyes seemed unable to hold still.

She pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, a nervous habit. “We heard from John.” He perked up at that. Eliza fought back a smile. “His father, to be precise— he talked to Martha Manning.”

Alex’ face fell again. “’John is safe and taken care of?’” he asked, spitting the words out. She nodded. “I’ve been made aware of that.” He frowned, looked away. “Thank you for your time.”

Eliza couldn’t think of a reply. Alex gave her one last look, made a move to leave.

“Wait!”

“Yes?” He sounded impatient, looked in a rush. She felt like apologizing.

“I’m— we are all worried about John.” She met his eyes, hoped it read genuine. 

“So am I!”

“I know that.” She caught Angelica’s eye across the yard. The latter looked ready to pounce, if necessary. She cleared her throat. “Mister Laurens asked for Martha’s notes, but she doesn’t really take them— you share a couple of classes, so—“

“Of course!” He interrupted, whole demeanour changed. “Yes! Naturally. I’ll help in any way.”

She smiled. His eyes seemed softer.

“I’ll give you Martha’s number.”

He was already pulling out his phone, hands shaking. 

“Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem, really.” He handed it over, and she typed in the number, got a nervous smile in return.

“I’ll let you know if we find out anything else?” she offered.

He nodded. “Yes.” A pause, a strangled swallow. “Thank you.”

She felt her shoulders unclench. “Any time.” 

Another moment of awkward, albeit less tense, silence. He forced another smile, walked away. She returned to the bench.

“What just happened?” Peggy asked, on the edge of xyr seat. “This was like a silent movie, I swear to—“

“Was he rude?” Angelica interrupted. “He seemed—“

“Martha, I gave him your number,” Eliza cut them both off. Martha beamed at her. “Notes are taken care of.”

“Was he mean, though?”

Eliza laughed. Angelica seemed to relax.

“As you’d say, ‘chill’.” She sat back down. “He’s just worried too.” 

—

“Hey there.“

John looked up from his book, smiled. Martha Manning was waving at him from the doorway.

“May I come in?”

“Yes, please.” He jumped to his feet, rushed over to pull her in a hug. “Thank god, human contact, I could marry you.”

She laughed into his ear, patted his back. “You make me feel so special.”

He stepped back, excitement bubbling up inside him. “What’s going on out there? Did Lee get expelled? Is Alex okay?”

“Alex is fine.” Martha grabbed his hand, squeezed it. “Laf and Momigan take good care of him.”

He paused. “Momigan?”

“Yeah, he loves the nickname.” She walked past him, set her stuff down on his desk. “I’m trying to get Auntgelica to stick— anyways.”

“Anyways.”

“Eliza’s been talking to him too.” Martha’s eyes focused on his. He blinked. “And Lee got a call home…. I think Adams got in trouble too, but no one’s suspended.”

“No one but me.”

“No one but you beat a student up in plain sight, though.”

John sighed, walked back to his bed. “Fair.”

“How have you been?” Martha sat down on his chair. “How’s Laurens Senior handling this?”

John bit his lip, shrugged. “He was disappointed. Talked about trust. Took my phone and laptop away.”

“I can see that.”

“He said some really shitty things about LaFayette and Mull but.” He shrugged again. “I mean, they won’t be coming over any time soon but he didn’t outright ban me from talking to them.”

“Wait, when did those two get involved in this?”

John sat up, paused. “Oh, he read my messages.”

“He did what now?”

“That was the trust thing.” He laughed, nervous and forced. “It’s okay, I mean, they’re not hiding it right? I wish he hadn’t found out but I mean, he won’t hurt them and—“ Martha’s breathing got heavy, eyes angry. He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“Son of a _bitch_!” she hissed. “Not you, John, you did nothing wrong— but your father!”

“He has a point.”

“No, dude, that’s fucked up.”

“Martha, please.”

She sat back, still seething. He managed a weak smile.

“I brought you notes,” she added after a pause. “Most of them are Eliza’s, so you know they’re good. Alex gave me his too, they’re super detailed.”

“Thanks.”

“I really don’t know why your dad asked for me.” She sighed. “We share like, one class?”

“And you never take notes?”

She stuck her tongue out. He snorted.

“He’s not home right now?”

“It’s Eleanor’s sister’s birthday, they won’t be home until pretty late.” He sighed, leaned back. “Mary is at her grandma's.”

“So you have the house for yourself?” Martha wagged her eyebrows. He snorted again. “Where’s the party?”

“Don’t know how many people would show up at a school night.”

“Oh, fuck them; we can pee on the flag alone.”

John doubled over, laughing inaudibly. Martha shoved at his shoulder, her own shaking slightly.

“So… when am I expected to leave?”

“Dunno.” He wiped at his eyes; they were starting to tear up. “When do your parents want you home?”

“Dunno.” She rested an elbow on his shoulder. “I can keep you entertained for a little while.”

He grinned. “Want a drink?”

She raised an eyebrow. He met her eyes.

“It’s past noon.”

“That’s… true.” She bit her lip. John did his best take at puppy eyes. “Oh, look at you.”

“It’s not like he can double-ground me.”

“ _John_.”

He smiled at her, expectant.

She sighed. “I want his expensive whiskey.”

He laughed, kissed her forehead. “Done, done, done.”

—

Martha Manning did not consider herself to be the best decision maker in her friend group. No one could compete with Angelica’s natural leader-ness or Eliza’s cautious planning, but even the drunk Peggy Schuyler made better choices than Martha sometimes did.

John Laurens sat cross-legged, facing her, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. Martha believed this to be one of those occasions.

“Another?” he asked, reaching for the bottle. It was almost empty, and it had been almost full just forty minutes ago, and she’d barely finished her first glass.

She batted his hand away. “How about you slow down?”

He frowned. His eyes did not seem to want to focus on her face.

“How many glasses did you even have?”

“You’re not my mother, M’rtha.”

She groaned. It was nearing five in the afternoon. She’d probably be able to get him cleaned up and in bed before his parents arrived, but she’d also have to get home eventually and leaving him alone did not seem like a smart idea. She knew it’s impossible to swallow your own tongue but if he started vomiting— she’d have to phone Mulligan and ask him what the proper position for an unconscious person was—

John was pouring himself another glass. She quickly snatched the bottle away, causing him to spill some on the carpet.

“Aw, come on.”

 _I’m sure that’ll wash out._ “I’m the best thing akin to mother you have at the moment, so.”

He sighed, but didn’t fight as she took his glass away. His whole posture was limp, eyes heavy-lidded. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone this far gone.

“I’m gonna put these away.”

“Have fun.”

The house was eerily empty. She felt as if Henry Laurens was to appear any moment.  
Rinsing the glasses out, she hid the remaining whiskey behind some dusty wine bottles, prayed it’d get overlooked, returned to John’s room. He was still where she’d left him, tugging at the hem of his sweatpants.

“Hey there.”

He looked up. “That was fast.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Nah.”

“Can you get up?”

“Totally.” He didn’t move. Laughing, she walked over, offered him a hand.

“I don’t need help.” He tried to bat her hand away. Sighing, she took a step back, watched him clamber up to his feet. “See?”

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Kinda.” He grabbed onto her shoulder, laughed. She put a hand on his hip to steady him, patted his cheek.

“You need to brush your teeth... and probably throw up.“ He put his free hand on her other shoulder, leaned in. “And then drink so much water.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’ll have the worst hangover ever.”

“Cool.” He was very close. His breath smelled like whiskey. “Hey?”

She looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot, still pretty. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinked, and he leaned in even closer. “John?”

His lips grazed hers, just barely.

She froze, too shocked to push him away. “John.”

“I think I’m gay,” he whispered. 

“Oh, John.” She pulled him into a hug— he choked back a sob. “That’s okay.”

“No.” He pulled away. His eyes were wet. “I need to—“

His chest heaved. He pressed a hand to his mouth.

“Yes, okay.” That she could deal with. “Not on the carpet, just not on the carpet.”

—

_remember when i drank the whole bottle of your dads wine and cried about abigail being str8_

**never forget never forgive**

**\- (that means yes)**

_howdyou make me shut up_

Martha clicked send, set her phone down. John Laurens was breathing heavily, still clinging to the toilet seat. She continued rubbing circles into his back, unsure how to proceed.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Martha sighed. “It’s okay.” This was possibly the fifth time he’d apologized, not counting the times she just couldn’t make out what he was saying. During the last half an hour he’d emptied his stomach more thoroughly than any stomach pumping could, and was apparently unable to hold any liquid in— didn’t stop him from trying to speak, though, unintelligible mutterings broken with sobs and retching.

A new text from Sally. Martha slid her thumb across the screen.

**what the fuck is going on**

_Johns thomas-jefferson-at-the-end-of-school-year-party trashed dunno what to do_

**!! schoolnight**

_!! suspended_

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

She smiled, squeezed his shoulder. “Really, it’s okay.”

“For kissing you. Wasn’t okay.”

“That we agree on.” She tugged at his bun; she’d tied his hair back with one of her hairties, bright pink and fluffy. “But I’ll let it slide, due to your current condition.”

“Still not okay.”

“True, mister Consent 101.” She opened the newly received message, from Mulligan.  
“Your mom is asking if you’re okay?”

John groaned into the toilet. “My mom is dead.”

“What—“ She paused. He retched again, nothing but stomach acid. Guess that explained why she was never mentioned. She squeezed his shoulders. “It’s Mulligan.”

**is he okay??**

_he’s throwing up stomach acid_

**make him drink water**

_he throws that up too_

“He’s texting back really fast,” she noted. 

John was breathing heavily. “He does that.” 

**acid will fuck his throat up**

“He says you need to drink more water.” 

John moaned, shook his head. 

She sighed. “Please?” 

He ended up taking three sips, eyes screwed shut. Martha checked the messages again. 

**get him in bed, put the trashcan by his bedside. tell him ill kick his ass**

“Mulligan will kick your ass,” she announced. 

John didn’t reply. 

“Come on, you’re going to bed.” 

He shook his head again. 

Martha sighed. “You can throw up in the—“ 

He threw up mid-sentence. 

She scowled. “Shit, honey.” 

He pushed himself away from the toilet, whole face tear-stained. “I can go to bed now.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He rolled under covers without much hassle. His bun had come undone. She redid it, fastening it with a less conspicuous tie. 

“Any better?” 

“I’m a dick.” 

“Kind of, but that’s okay.” She knelt down next to him, pulled a blanket over his shoulders. “I’d offer to reschedule the make outs for a later date but I guess the gayness does it.” 

His eyes flew open. She raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

“I won’t.” She reached over, cupped his cheek. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it.” 

He closed his eyes again, tried to hide in his pillow. “I’m gross.” 

“You’re not.” 

“He’ll kill me." 

She didn’t have to ask who ‘he’ meant. “Maybe he won’t? I mean, you’re his son.” 

He laughed, coughed. She had to admit, that was a bullshit argument. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. 

She bit her lip, tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “You’ll be okay.” 

He shook his head. She couldn’t think of a reply. 

— 

Alex’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He pressed his fist harder into the table, scribbled out another line in his notebook. His stomach turned at the thought of eating his lunch. _He should be here by now._

“He should be here by now, you think?” Lafayette said. Their hair was untidy, eyes unlined. They were messing with their phone and shoving celery into their mouth, which further distorted their accent. 

“Sometimes he’s late to stuff,” Mulligan told them, sounding just as nervous. “Martha said she was taking care of him yesterday.” 

Alex’s head snapped up. “What did Martha say?” 

“Well…” 

LaFayette frowned. They turned to Mulligan and signed something rapidly. Mulligan reluctantly nodded. 

“What are you saying?” Alex demanded. 

Instead of answering, LaFayette started muttering in French. 

“Je parle français aussi!” Alexander snapped. “Je lui ne connait pas comme tu, mais je suis aussi son ami! Penses-tu—“ 

Mulligan grinned, and Alex felt a tap on his shoulder. He jerked and spun around to see John’s half-smile above him. 

“Hey hey, smart-asses, what’s all the French nonsense about? You talking about me?” 

“John!” Alex hugged him around his middle, relief immediately flooding his system. 

John patted his head and gently removed Alex’s arms from around his torso. Alex beamed, blinking wetly and taking John’s hand in his own as he sat down beside him. Mulligan reached across the table to ruffle John’s hair. 

“A little,” LaFayette informed him, and threw a stick of celery at him. 

“Only the good stuff, I hope.” 

“Where were you this morning?” Alex asked. “I looked all over, I tried to text you— I’m sorry about that, by the way, you can ignore that, when you finally get your phone back— your dad is such an ass! I’ll kill him! Can I please kill him? Anyway, are you okay? How are you doing?” 

John laughed. “I’m fine, I promise.” Mulligan opened his mouth, and John frowned just slightly. “I’m _fine_. I just felt a bit sick yesterday, and this morning was a bit complicated with my dad.” 

“Did he do anything bad?" 

John rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, like I said. What are you working on?” He leaned over Alexander’s shoulder. “You got that debate with Jefferson today, right?” 

Alex groaned. “I can’t believe I have to work with him.” 

“Neither can I.” 

“I mean, I’m supposed to be arguing for pro-life, but… it just makes me sick. Like, how many unwanted kids are going to be born into shitty situations? How many parents are just going to be thrust into poverty or social isolation because of a single mistake? Like, _at least_ the waiting period should be flexible, but that’s not the kind of a secret someone should have to keep!” 

John nodded vigorously, and Alex felt proud. “Yeah, I feel you. It’s a major human rights violation, to say the least. I can’t imagine being put in that position, like… the kind of pain those women must go through, the kind of black market out there. It’s great that you’re speaking up.” 

“Absolutely! And I mean, think about the people seeking treatment, too, most of them disenfranchised, plenty of them young, I mean, there are _rape survivors_ who are going to _need_ —“ 

“Yeah.” John withdrew his hand. “So, have you talked to Jefferson at all about it?” 

“Ugh, no.” Alex stuffed a bland chicken nugget in his mouth, and choked down another with it. “The guy’s insufferable. And as far as I can tell, his friend— Madison?— isn’t much better.” 

LaFayette wrinkled their nose. They still looked tense. “Eh, James is not all bad when Thomas isn’t around, or when they are not in public.” 

“Good luck with that,” Mulligan laughed. “Hey John, you want some of my lunch? You must be hungry.” 

“I’m good, I’m good. And I’m plenty hydrated, so cut it out, mom.” 

“Oh, so Martha got you in on the mom thing?” 

Alex’s eyebrows jumped. “’Mom thing?’” 

John’s response was cut off by the bell. “Hey.” He clapped Alex’s back, eliciting another smile. “Go knock ‘em dead.” 

Alex stood and gathered his materials in a rush. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Count on it.” 

Alex kept eye contact for as long as he could, then let himself leave with the crowd. He walked into debate with a glint in his eye, half-hoping Jefferson to be mysteriously absent, half-daring him to be there so he could see how indignant Alex felt. 

Sure enough, the prick in question sprawled in his chair with his arms folded over a gaudy silk shirt, next to James Madison as before, who was passing him a note. 

Alexander curtly nodded. “Jefferson.” 

He shoved the paper in his pocket. “Hamilton. You better be ready for today’s debate.” 

“Oh, I assure you I am. Are you?” He watched in satisfaction as Thomas sneered and James raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh come on, just sit down.” 

“Is that an order?” 

“Do you want it to be?” Jefferson smirked. Madison covered his mouth like a schoolgirl with the backs of his fingers. 

Alex felt heat flush his cheeks. “I do not appreciate—“ He cut himself off when the teacher walked in. “I will deal with you later,” he hissed, and stalked off to his own seat. 

He glowered and read over his half-hearted notes while the other students gave their presentations (James Madison giving an unimpassioned but shockingly precise argument for the academic advantages of football). Eventually, Alex was called up along with Jefferson and their opponents. 

Alexander buzzed hotly throughout the affirmative’s case, grinding his teeth. Thomas Jefferson seemed to be doing some sort of elaborate shuffle, his hands seemingly unable to keep out of his hair for over five seconds straight. 

Thomas started talking, and Alexander had to pinch his arm to bring himself back to the present. The room came into hyperfocus; he felt rushing around him. 

“Moreover, the, the constitutionality of what you’re implying is questionable at best,” Jefferson was saying. “Do you really want to go back on a centuries-old document just to fulfill some… liberal agenda?” 

“Thomas,” Mr. Moore said from his seat, “I believe you’re taking much of the speaking time from your classmate. Wasn’t this a team project?” 

Jefferson scowled. “By all means, start talking, Hamilton,” he muttered. 

Alexander took a deep breath. “Firstly, I would concur that the legal elements of this debate must be discussed. You champion yourselves as harbingers of human rights, but what about... okay, you know what?” He looked out at the rows of faces. “I refuse to stand here and argue for something I don’t believe in. I do not believe that is what this class should serve to do, nor this country.” 

“Hamilton, what the hell,” Thomas whispered, but Alex ignored him. 

“As for constitutionality, the constitution was never meant to be a concretely limiting document, and it never will be!” He was on a roll now; he felt good. “The idea that the government cannot make executive decisions based on human rights is utterly preposterous, and dangerous by the most forgiving of accounts.” 

“I cannot _believe_ this.” Jefferson turned to him, propping himself on the table with one hand, the other on his hip. “If you want to argue and get us all in trouble, fine. _Yes_ , it’s a human rights violation to make decisions like that without consent. Jesus. Do you even know what the constitution says?” 

He stuck out his chest. “I have it memorized, as a matter of fact, and it’s clear enough to me why you would assume otherwise! I’ll have you know I’m no alien to the law of this union. Would you like me to recite it to you? Not to mention that it’s also a human rights violation to make someone carry and raise a child, but I guess you aren’t worried about that! I guess you aren’t worried about the hundreds of mothers forced into having unwanted children or having life-threatening, back-alley abortions because the government wouldn’t do its damn job!” 

“Oh, and now you’re swearing in a classroom setting. That’s great. That’s just great.” 

“Typical of you to imply that I don’t know how to socially conduct myself when look at you! Don’t get me _started_ on you, Thomas _Jefferson_ , you absolute specimen of human scum.” 

“You… imbecile! It should never have been the government’s job to—“ 

“It absolutely is and should be!” Alex laughed scoffingly. “Don’t pretend the Civil War never happened. Don’t pretend the greatest advancements in American society haven’t occurred as direct results of stretching the constitution’s limits.” 

“Yeah, and the Civil War was so great!” 

“It ended slavery, so yeah! I’d say it was pretty great!” 

Thomas’ face darkened. “Are you seriously looking me in the eye and saying this? Am I alive right now? _You’re_ trying to to talk to _me_ about _slavery_?!” 

Alex flushed. “My point still stands! Sue me for caring about the five thousand deaths in the 60’s related to unsafe and illegal abortion practices!” 

“This is 2015, you fuckwit! We’ve advanced, and—” 

“Exactly! Get with the times! By G-d, you’re saying you’d prefer that people get unsafe, illegal abortions because there wouldn’t be as _many_ deaths, and you dare speak to me about human rights.” 

“Stop cutting me off, dammit!” Something had changed in Thomas’ demeanor, his laziness vanished and replaced with something more feral, sinister— almost thrilling. “Don’t cut me off again, don’t you dare talk over me when you know I have something to say.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t cut you off if everything you said wasn’t bullshit!” 

“Boys, boys!” The shocked voice of the teacher finally interrupted them. “What has gotten into you? I would send you to principal Frederick if this weren’t our first debate. Remember our first rule: civility. Now sit down, I’ll figure out your grades later. My goodness.” 

Alexander stalked out of the classroom with electricity in his chest. His strides were long as he passed Madison’s open mouth, past the rasping call of the teacher. He crouched outside the door and glared, the floor blurring in front of him, breathing hard. His hands shook as he twisted them together. “How dare he,” he muttered to himself. He sprung up and began pacing back and forth in the hall. His whole body felt like fire. _How dare he when he doesn’t—_

He remembered his mother, long nights on the beach, the taste of salt in his mouth, and _I should have never been born, it was his fault, it was his fucking fault—_

He crashed into someone. “Get out of my—“ Then, Alexander looked up. He realized that he’d walked right into Aaron Burr. 

“What on Earth were you _thinking_ , Alexander?” There was no quiver in his voice, but a tautness in his shoulders that looked fit to snap. 

He stiffened in turn. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I stood by my opinion; I have that much right.” 

“It’s just a class. For Christ’s sake,” Aaron sighed. “Not everything is about being righteous, or whatever.” 

He thought he’d be _impressed_. “You _have_ to understand, I couldn’t just stand up there and fight for something I do not believe in. Listen, I arrived here fully intending in participating in American democracy, and I will not be silenced by—!” 

“This isn’t _Congress_ ,” Aaron whispered, eyes wide. “It’s high school.” 

“I am fully aware! And I don’t—“ 

“You are going to get in trouble. You act like a child.” 

“Stop interrupting me! Deep down, you must know that what I’m saying is true. If you would only _listen_ to me, if they would only hear what I’m trying to SAY!” His words got more and more desperate as Aaron’s eyes slowly hardened over. 

“I’m going to class, Alexander.” He turned and began to walk away. 

“Wait—“ Alex grasped, snatched at the back of his shirt. As his palm flattened, he felt something thick beneath the fabric. 

Aaron slowly turned back to him, eyes cold. Alex gulped. He was murmuring something, but Alexander’s eyes darted, Aaron’s features snapping into place in his brain everything made sense— his short stature, soft jawline, smooth cheek, his narrow shoulders and wide hips and the _anxiety_ — 

“You’re like _me_ ,” Alex breathed. His mouth fell open and into a grin. “Aaron. You’re like me.” 

He stepped back. “I don’t what you mean.” 

“This is why I couldn’t find your name in any elementary roster.” Alex felt giddy, on another plane. “You didn’t exist until high school. That’s why, isn’t it?” 

“Honestly, I find it more disturbing that you’ve been searching for the schools I’ve attended,” Aaron snapped, his voice hissed out quiet, sharp. 

“That’s why there are no pictures until now. Aaron, you’re like me.” He still felt light-headed. 

“I am nothing like you, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now please leave me alone. I have a class to get to.” 

That high voice. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not going to hurt you, I….” 

Before he could finish, Aaron turned his heel and hurried into the crowd of students quickly spreading into the halls, blended. 

Alexander stood, agape. Someone bumped into his shoulder, didn’t apologize. He didn’t retaliate. He reached up, felt the coarse strap of his own binder digging into his shoulder. The inside of his mouth and the tip of his tongue was still painted with a hollow sort of elation, bright and pitying all at once. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for implied past abuse in the last scene!

**hey, just checking in <3 lunch is suuuper boring**

**\- got an a on the last test!! sing my praises lol lets just hope I can pull off the exam :p**

**\- hey aaron im gonna need some complimenting!!! get ur ass over here**

**\- aaron? im really sorry but are you okay??? it doesnt usually take u this long to reply and im sorry im just worried**

**\- aaron?**

Aaron Burr twitched at the usually comforting sound of Theodosia’s custom alert. He’d been reading the same page of his textbook for the last fifteen minutes. His eyes burned.

A new bird chirp. **okay but just take off ur binder before u go to bed all right?? i know u like to sleep in that shit when ur avoiding me and its bad for u**

His chest felt like a pincushion stabbed with needles on every surface. He considered turning the face of his phone to his desk and doing nothing but read for the rest of the night.

Police sirens faded in and out of the night. Aaron snapped shut his blinds and grabbed his phone, curling his knees up to text back. _fine, miss cutlets de poulets._

Theodosia’s immediate response: **aww, so its like that, huh? ☺** Then, **how bout u tell me whats wrong?? u know i love to hear from u no matter what its about**

Aaron took a long, shuddering breath. _this guy found out about me._

**oh shit honey**

**\- do u need me to beat someones ass?? holy shit are u ok?????**

_yes, i am fine, thank you._

_\- no ass beating necessary._

_\- i am pretty sure that he is also trans, actually._

**aaron omg!! :0 thats really cool! maybe u guys can be friends?**

_i thought we would be. i think i am safe._

_\- it’s just_

_\- he doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, and i suppose i am a little worried_

**well i dont think hell out u if he knows what ur going through but like :// yikes i mean i understand where ur coming from**

_like he just got in some big fight and everyone is talking about it and i just want them to shut up_

_\- and i guess it just… gets under my skin that he figured me out so quickly_

_\- i’m sorry i’m rambling._

**hey its ok it makes sense <33 i really hope it works out tho like u could really use the company**

Aaron had to internally shrug off the tenderness she made him feel. _enough about me, how are you, lovely?_

**haha always the flatterer *eyes u***

**\- its p much same old same old over here in ga**

**\- jack is tryna talk to me abt baseball season already im like… can u shut tf up**

_damn, i feel you._

_\- is your dad still pushing that you play?_

**yeah :// it aint the biggest deal, just “theodore this, theodore that.” :p i do wish i could do volleyball but yknow lol (but there are sooo many pretty girls on the volleyball team like… u would die if u were here!!!!)**

_haha_

_\- no chances of any of them stealing you away, are there?_

**idk u better be carefulllll ;)**

**\- im kidding honey <3**

_i know._

_\- what are the doctors saying?_

**im all kosher <33**

_that is good._

_\- i’m afraid what i’ve got can’t be cured, but i suppose these things happen to the very best of us <3_

**oh my goshhh u nerd**

**\- at least ur stealth!!! like, look on the bright side here <3**

_yeah, i know._

_\- i’m sorry._

**thats not what i meant. sweetheart u know i got ur back**

**\- get to sleep soon sweetie ok??? i mean it**

**\- try not to stress about that guy. if it doesnt work out u can always come live here with me (im jk but seriously <3 im sure itll all turn out just fine) (u kno ur irreplaceable <3)**

**\- and take off ur binder dont make me come over there**

_yeah, yeah._

_\- goodnight to the prettiest girl in georgia. <333_

**and goodnight to the handsomest guy in new york!!**

**\- talk to u tomorrow baby ily <333**

_ilyt <333_

—

**and it freaks me out ok?????? it just freaks me out i know you prob thinkits dumb but JESUS**

**\- he never stops TALKING IT DRIVES ME INSANE**

_i promise i don't think that it's stupid. it's a natural reaction, and it makes sense._ James put down his phone and set his eyes on the road. The drive to Thomas' house often made him carsick, especially when he was texting.

Another ping. **i cant sopt htinking about it jesus jesus he was out of LINE okay**

 _i know._ The car glided to a stop; James breathed. _i'll be in your room in one minute._ He tucked his phone into his pocket and offered a placid smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

His mother sighed through her nose. "Just be home in time to get all your homework done, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." He got out of the car and jogged up to Thomas' house, checking to make sure his inhaler was in his pocket as he went. He slipped the spare key out from behind a geranium pot and entered the house.

It was bigger than his own, but James had gotten used to it by now. He took the stairs two at a time, nodding to a maid he passed on the way up. The familiar scent of the place let some of the tension in his chest go.

He found Thomas sat on the edge of his bed, throwing a superball to the wall and let it bounce back up to his hand in a triangle. It was really quite skilled: _thump, thump, thwip. Thump, thump, thwip_ — almost a melody.

"James, holy _shit_." Tom's voice was quite and strained. His shoulders were tight and shaking, and his eyes were rimmed with red.

James squinted and sat next to him. Tom didn't reach out to him. "Did you have a panic attack?"

"Two, actually, if you must know. One already today." _Thump, thump, thwip._ "G-d, I hate that guy. I hate him, I hate him. And I have to— I have to turn in some new project, like it's _my_ fault, like that little— didn't just start—" He was breathing hard. "I can't— I'm gonna fail the class. I'm gonna fail, he's gonna _kill_ me."

"You still have time to make the grade up. I can talk to our teacher," James offered, though he already felt heavy at the thought of it. "Get him to rethink the requirements."

"You don't understand, my dad's coming back in a couple days, I'm gonna die, James, I'm dying, I'm gonna—" The ball dropped from his hand and thudded across the floor. "Shit, _shit_." Tom's hands flew to his mouth. He blinked, his shoulders shaking.

"Hey, hey," James murmured. "Look at me."

Tom shook his head violently, still trembling.

"I said to look at me, Thomas."

Hesitantly, Tom craned his head and peered through his fingers. His eyes looked dark and wide, like a deer in the road.

"Good. Can you sit up a little straighter for me?"

He sat up, rigid but there.

"That's a good job." James reached out and found the exact right spot on the back of Tom's neck. He pressed into it with his pads of his fingers, and Thomas shivered and slouched again, his body slack, twitching occasionally. "That's real nice. That's easier, right?"

Thomas started crying and leaned into him. James sorted through his curls with his hands, tracing patterns on his scalp. It was grounding.

"I'm _so_ tired," Thomas shuddered out. "I'm so...."

"I know, baby."

"It was out of line. It wasn't his _place_. He'll get us both in trouble, Jesus, Jesus...."

"You'll be fine." He chastely guided Tom's head to his lap and traced the back of his neck lightly. "I'll talk to Mr. Moore. I can write your counter-argument with your outline. I'll get ahold of a couple of Hamilton's essays, and write his, too."

"You don't have to do that for me."

"I'm running low on work, anyways. I can use the change of pace."

"Are you sure? I mean, you, I don't want to ask to much of you, you're...."

"Honey, I don't mind a bit." James bent and kissed up the back of his neck soft as petals. He felt the last bit of tension go out of Tom's shoulders, and felt a hint of pride. "I'll deal with everything."

They helped each other adjust and lay down, Thomas' forehead at just the right angle to kiss.

"When d'you have to leave?" he muttered.

"Three hours, or thereabouts."

Thomas sighed, and James internally did the same, though perhaps for different reasons. He contemplated it as he curled a lock of hair around his finger and kissed it: how Thomas was really the only person James found worth his while. How everything else seemed flat, most times, or grey, and how he couldn't feel any of it.

Thomas was real. Thomas was brilliant, all yellows and purples and golds and summer picnics in the woods nearby.

That Monday, James Madison walked into the school with two crisply edited, differently styled essays in his hands. He slipped one to Thomas, who skirted his eyes and muttered a "thank you for... everything," and approached Hamilton after their shared History class.

"Take this and turn it into Mr. Moore when you get the chance," he instructed.

"Excuse me?! John— go, go, I'll catch up with you."

James suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as Laurens passed him without eye contact. "You can either deny yourself this and turn in a make-up essay you clearly don't want to write, or turn in this and actually do something for your grade. I assume this interests you."

Hamilton's dark eyes darted. He was nearly as short as James, and nearly as easy to read as Thomas.

"Or you could do nothing, I suppose, and watch your first quarter swirl down the drain."

"Give me that." Hamilton snatched it from his hand and read it over quickly. "Hey, I don't sound like this!"

"Whatever you say, but I based this on your own writings. More importantly, Mr. Moore won't know nor care."

"So you're suggesting I cheat."

Actually, James was suggesting that he take his head out of his ass and stop causing trouble for James' best friend, but that was beside the point. "I trust your future actions will make up for it. Considering how little contact we've had, it's clear to me that you're a bright student." He managed a light laugh. "I have no doubt you'll be able to beat me out for the highest score soon enough. Just take it; I'm grateful for the competition."

Hamilton's cheeks darkened and twisted and he squirmed. He seemed pleased. "Just this once, you understand? I'm not a dishonest person."

"Of course, just this once."

He gulped and shoved the essay into his backpack. "I... well."

"Don't mention it." James turned and hurried down the hall to his next class, grateful if anything that it was over.

—

The Schuyler mansion loomed before him, soft purple in the setting sunlight. John fiddled with the safety belt, painfully aware of his father's eyes on him.

“I’ll pick you up at midnight.”

“Okay.” He forced a smile, met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know why I’m allowing this.” Henry Laurens sighed, both hands still on the wheel. “I really do have too much faith in you.”

John swallowed.

“Please, John,” he whispered.” Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Won’t.” His chest felt tight, too tight. He wanted out of the car. He wanted out of this body. “Thank you.”

His father sighed in reply. John touched the doorknob, paused.

“See you, then.”

“Bye, dad,” he whispered. The crisp night air hit him as soon as he got out; his father gave him one last stern look, drove away.

Fucking hell.

The front doors opened. John looked up just in time to see Angelica Schuyler walk out, wrapped in a beige trench-coat. She squinted at the disappearing car.

“He’s gone!” she called out, finally met John’s eyes. He barely got to raise an eyebrow when there Alex was, rushing out of the house, a smile lighting up his face.

“John! You made it!” He stopped just in front of him, gripped his forearms. “I knew you said you would but there was the possibility of your father changing his mind as— never mind that now, you’re here! John!” He paused. The top of his nose was bright red, cheeks flushed from the cold. The bags under his eyes were as prominent as ever, hair pulled back in a low ponytail. The hoodie he was wearing was a deep green shade. It looked good on him. John found himself smiling.

“Yeah.”

“Happy birthday!”

A pause, and then he was being hugged, Alexander’s body like a small furnace. John threw an arm around his back, gave him a pat.

“Thanks, man.” He pulled away, chest warm. Any left-over tension from the car conversation was quickly dissipating. “Everyone else here?”

“They’re waiting for you,” Angelica spoke up. John jumped up, having momentarily forgotten she was there. “Happy seventeen, Laurens.”

John didn’t think he’d be celebrating his birthday this year. He was still technically grounded, his father disapproved of most of his friends; he felt tired, really tired, too tired to argue the situation he knew was logically solvable.

Thank god for Angelica Schuyler.

She got in contact with his father, got in contact with everyone; asked to have a small gathering at their house, for John’s birthday, “Eliza wants to see him”, their parents would be home.

(Only the last one was a lie.)

Henry relented. John felt kind of like they were cheating the universe, like he’d come to pay for it sooner than later. He kind of didn’t care. His father had been able to tell John was hung-over, the day after the whole Martha fiasco— another long-term friendship fucked up in such a short time period, was he on a roll—

_“Are you punishing me?” John’s mouth felt dry and his head heavy and Henry’s stature impossibly tall. “Did I wrong you somehow? ‘Cause this, John, this is far beyond acceptable.”_

John shook his head. His dad wasn’t here now. Alex was still at his side, restless on his feet. John focused on that.

Someone had hung Christmas lights all over the living room, across the winding staircase. John grinned, looped an arm around Angelica’s shoulders. “Holy shit, this looks great.”

“Yes, LaFayette and Peggy did a great job.” Maria was suddenly between them, removing John’s hand so that she could take the place herself. There was an amused glint in her eyes. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hello to you too, Reynolds.”

She blew him a kiss. He winked back.

“Still can’t believe mum agreed to lie to your dad.” Peggy Schuyler was suddenly in his face, xyr eyes framed in green sequins. “He’s, like, a universally recognized antichrist.”

“Peggy,” Angelica hissed.

John laughed. “I dig your face.”

Peggy struck a pose, and John laughed again.

“John! John est arrivé!” LaFayette called out, running down the stairs. “John!”

“LaF!” John mocked their enthusiasm, chest already a ton lighter. LaFayette pulled him into a hug, kissed both his cheeks. Their lips were painted bright red. He rubbed at his cheek, causing LaF to frown.

“I know how to set my lipstick.” They blew a curl out of their face. “Heretic.”

“Who’s a heretic?” Hercules was suddenly behind him, gripping him in a surprise bear hug. “Happy birthday, asshole, I made the playlist.”

John fixed his eyes on LaFayette. “Control your partner.”

LaFayette shrugged. “He is beyond control.”

The crowd dispersed after that. He caught Martha’s eyes across the room, walked over. “Hey.”

She looked up, smiled. “O-ho, facing your failed conquests? Noble.”

He flushed. “Shit.”

“If you want to pretend that never happened, I’m totally on board.”

He looked up, hoped his face conveyed how grateful he felt. “Please.”

She grinned, raised her glass in a half-hearted cheer.

“I’m still in awe your dad let you come.”

John nodded, sat down next to her. “I think he’s hoping Eliza and I’ll get back together.”

“Hah.”

He flushed again. She winced.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not—“

“I’m gay.”

His head snapped up. Her cheeks were bright red, eyes averted.

“Too,” she shrugged, chuckled nervously. “Or not too? Sorry. But, uh. Yeah.”

John felt his mouth open, close.

She looked up. “Dude.”

“Sorry! Shit, sorry.” He grabbed her arm, squeezed. “No, that’s great, that’s- I am so sorry I tried to kiss you, _shit_ —“

She put her face in her remaining free hand, screeched. He laughed, knowing his face must be as red as hers.

“Okay, I need a drink,” she gasped, eyes a little teary.

“Same.” He made a move to get up, paused. “Does anyone else know?”

She fixed her eyes on him, deadpan.

He swallowed. “Does, like, everyone else know?”

“Not everyone.” She pushed at his legs. “But you wouldn’t be the first one I’d tell.”

“You were my first one.”

“Aw!”

“Oh, fuck off.” Laughing, he got up.

“Get me a Screwdriver!”

“What, no friends you’d ask before me?” She swatted at him again. “Fine, Jesus!”

Numa Numa song started playing as he made way to the kitchen. Mulligan and LaFayette were waltzing off-beat; Hercules blew him a kiss, which John pretended to catch and then stamp on.

Peggy Schuyler was in the kitchen, pouring xyrself a shot. John stopped dead in tracks.

“Peg?”

Xe turned around, raised an eyebrow. “John?”

“Is that tequila?” It was tequila. “Aren’t you—“

“The age you were when you drank half a bottle of my dad’s brandy and then threw up on his rug?” xe deadpanned. John pressed his lips shut. “Mhm.”

“Okay.” 

“Yep.”

He moved to the kitchen counter, picked up the bottle of vodka.

“I’m not like you, you know?” Peggy spoke up again. John nearly dropped the bottle. “Not gonna be, either.”

“What?”

Peggy met his eyes, sighed.

“Oh, nothing.” Xe knocked the shot back, stalked out of the room. John finished mixing the drinks in solitary confusion.

—

Eliza watched Mulligan theatrically dip his partner, LaFayette laughing even as they desperately clung to his shoulder. Her chest felt warm and too tight at the same time.

“Oooh, are you the DJ now?”

Eliza looked up, smiled at her sibling. Peggy’s eyes were slightly hazy, cheeks flushed, make up smudged just a bit.

“Hello to you too.” She reached over, ruffled xyr hair. “Had a drink, hm?”

“Just a little.” Peggy giggled. “Can you play the ‘Dancing Queen’? We need to play it at least ten times before his dad shows up.”

“Oh, good plan.” Eliza clicked the playlist open. “Any other requests?”

“Do you think he’ll get the point if we play enough Macklemore—“

“Peggy,” Eliza warned.

Peggy exhaled. “We all know—“

“John’s the only one who gets to make any calls on this,” she whispered. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“ _Fiine._ ” Xe stood up straighter, scanned the room. “Angelica and Maria are gone, do you think they’re sucking faces?”

“Who’s sucking faces?”

Eliza jumped up, laughed. Mulligan grinned at her, cheeks still flushed from the dancing.

“Ooh, the song is over, play Abba!” Peggy exclaimed, already crouching down next to the laptop and playing it xyrself.

LaFayette met Eliza’s eyes, rolled their own. “I have one like that on my own,” they said. “In-helpable.”

“That’s ‘delightful’, the word you’re looking for.” Hercules pressed a kiss to their cheek. “Man, I’m starving.”

“I can help with that.” Eliza jumped to her feet, smoothed down her skirt. Peggy gladly took her seat, sprawled out.

The kitchen was quiet. The tower of pizza boxes was already disassembled, the first box mostly empty. She took her time taking out the paper plates, arranging them on a platter. The crowded room had started getting too loud, too much; she took a deep breath, appreciated the solitude.

The bathroom doors slammed closed.

“Hey—! Oh.“ Alexander stood in the corridor, everything about his stature screaming deer in the headlights.

Eliza relaxed, smiled. “It’s the draught,” she explained. Alex nodded, still not moving. “Would you like some food?”

“Oh— no.” A beat. “Thank you for the offer.”

Eliza nodded. “Having fun?”

Alex’ eyes were fixated elsewhere. Eliza picked the platter up, walked over. Through the doorway, one could see Martha and John jumping along to the music.

She looked back at Alex. He didn’t seem to notice her, jaw clenched, shoulders tense.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she asked.

His eyes flitted to her, confused. “I’m good.”

“Do you mind me being here?”

A blink. “I— Of course not!”

She smiled, shrugged. The smile she received in return seemed almost sincere.

“He seems to be having fun,” Alex noted. Eliza hummed in agreement, not having to ask who ‘he’ was.

“He’s really happy you’re here.”

Alex’ cheek flushed a shade darker. “Ha.”

He agreed to help her bring out the food, followed her to the kitchen; there was something very lost-kitten-ish about him, something oddly endearing in the way he seemed unable to tear his eyes off wherever John was. She poured him some juice, got him to eat a cookie; finally, she walked over to where John and Martha were talking, Alex still in tow.

“I see you’re having fun.”

“Eliza!” Martha threw an arm around her shoulder; John ducked behind his glass, cheeks flushed.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” She smiled at him. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” he laughed; he was drunk. “Thank you for, wow, thank you for throwing this whole together, it’s so good, I’m-“ He caught Alex’ eyes, paused. “It’s great, yeah.”

“You should have some food,” she noted. Martha knocked the rest of her glass back. “Both of you.”

“There’s pizza?”

“A lot of pizza.”

Martha made a happy noise. “John, John, get me some.”

John made a noise of protest. “I brought you your drinks.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’ll do it,” Alex interrupted.

John’s hand flew out almost immediately, latched onto his forearm. “Hey, I’ll help.” He set his glass down, followed Alex into the kitchen. Eliza watched them walk away, John leaning into Alex’ personal space.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Martha breathed. Eliza shushed her.

When she re-entered the kitchen some fifteen minutes later John and Alex were deep in conversation.

“Is he eating?” she asked Alex. He nodded, face glowing. “I’m just here to get some food for Martha, don’t mind me.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot—“ John made a move to get up from his place on the kitchen counter, nearly tripped over Alex’s feet. The other boy laughed, eyes wide.

“Sit back, you two.” She rolled her eyes, winked at Alex. He seemed almost giddy; it was a good look on him. “I got this.”

—  


“I should get a job.”

Silence fell over the dinner table. Gone was the clink of dishes and forks. Alex dug his thumbnail into the wood grain, jiggled his leg.

Finally, Martha spoke. “Why do you feel that way?”

Alexander smushed his fork into his mashed potatoes, watching the gravy spill. They were bland: too Southern, not far South enough. He thought of the pizza at John’s party the other night. Thought of James Madison’s dark, unreadable eyes. “I’ve stalled too long already. I have to earn enough to pay back my boss back in St. Croix.” He looked up to see George share a frown with Martha, and huffed. “What, like you think I’d be dishonest? I can’t let him pay all of that for me and not give him a cent in return— especially considering the position he was in. I’ve worked before, it’s not too hard.”

Professor Washington said, “Alex, we’ve already taken care of the charges. If the hospital bills are what you mean, we have already reimbursed you former employer.”

Alexander set down his fork. He floundered, eyes darting. “You can’t just… you can’t just do that. I owe him.”

The Washingtons had put down their silverware, as well. The silence was deafening. Martha leaned in, gently pressed, “That is our job as foster parents. You should never have had to take that on alone, Alex.”

“But—“ He gulped. “What about interest? I have to pay interest, right?”

“You don’t have to pay for anything.”

He was frantic. He tried to keep his voice from shrillness— failed. “Please just let me get a job, I could use the experience. I can put it on college apps. I can even clean around the house, I don’t care, I just— I have to work. I have to do something.”

George’s voice sounded from the head of the little table. “I think it’s good for you right now to have a break from that. Your therapists thought so, too.”

Alex sneered, leaned his chair back precariously with his arms crossed. “Right, because my _therapists_ were always so capable of defining my life for me.”

“Alexander—“

“I can’t just be stagnant!” he insisted. He glared away the sting in his eyes. “I can’t just sit here and watch my life regress!”

This time, it was Martha again, her cotton-candy voice. That was somehow worse. “There are other things you can do that are worth your time. Building—“

“Yeah, building relationships, I know.” Alex scrubbed a hand over his face. John flashed in his mind— he squashed it down, disgusted. “Look, I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up. I guess my future in this country isn’t as important as ‘friendship.’ Whatever.”

“Son, we care very much about your progress. That is why we don’t want you to become preoccupied with unnecessary extracurriculars right now.”

That word again. Alexander’s shoulders slumped. “That’s _almost_ convincing.”

“Just give it a chance. Wait until the summer.”

Summer seemed like infinite lifetimes away, but Alex made do with a heavy sigh and an early clearing of his plate. He scrubbed the residue away until he could nearly see his own reflection, the hunger still lining his stomach comforting with the knowledge that he’d shoved all the leftovers he could into the fridge. He liked Martha’s tupperware, and he told her so. The design was pretty.

Martha retired to finish a book, but George took long in finishing his meal and approached him after he had. Alex scrubbed harder, hands beginning to redden and slick under the hot water. He flinched only slightly at the hand on his shoulder, engulfing.

“You know, you don’t have to pay your uncle anything, either.”

“I know that.” Alex scrubbed harder. “He never vied for custody, remember?” He forcefully set the plate in the drying rack with a clatter, grabbed a glass to replace it. “Didn’t want it.”

“You seem resentful.”

“And you seem like you’re trying to imitate a shrink but it’s not working— Shit!”

The glass hit the floor with a brilliant shatter. Alex crouched, desperate. He frantically swept it into a pile with his hands. Sharp edges slid over his palms, the floor a mess.

Washington’s hand on his shoulder again. “Don’t do that. I’ll get a broom.”

Alex gulped and stared at the blood welling on his stinging palms as Washington got a broom and a vacuum, diligently cleaned while Alex shuffled into a corner and clenched and unclenched his fists, studying the red smears in his fingernails and creeping over his wrists, brain somewhere fuzzy and retreated.

Washington pulled him gently to the sink, ran his hands under the cold water. Alex shuddered.

“Do you resent him?”

“No.” It was the truth, though Alexander didn’t like it. In the end, he couldn’t sum it up to his uncle’s sleep-filled days, trove of empty bottles once full of cheap rum, or even the rope around his cousin’s neck. He’d been a bad kid. He’d been a bad person. Shit, he’d had experience with caring for himself. He pitied anyone who had to put up with it. Which was why he didn’t understand how….

“There. We should put some bandages on those so they’ll heal better.”

Alex swallowed, lurked by the sink. “No. John will worry if he sees.” For some reason, this was the thought that was evocative enough to make his eyes sting again, but he hissed out his breaths, held it in. He was slowly coming to.

“You can tell him you fell skateboarding. Or whatever it is that’s cool nowadays.”

Alex blinked furiously, reaching for the gauze with his trembling hands when Washington tried to wrap them for him. “I can do it. I can _do_ it.” A sliver of blood crept out when he wrapped his left hand, but he did a mostly satisfactory job. He wiggled his thin fingers, brown darker against the white cotton. Clean.

“If you want to talk about what we discussed…”

“Not yet.” Alexander breathed through his nose, tried to settle his heartbeat. “Not yet.”

—  


“So, I saw James the other day.“

Angelica’s fingers, gently working their way through the knots in Maria’s hair, stopped. Maria closed her eyes, breathed.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“Which James?”

Maria squinted up. “Not the Madison James.”

“Huh.”

The fingers continued, down her side-cut, up her neck. She relaxed.

“Did he try shit?”

“No.” She replied, caught Angelica’s arm in one of hers. “He knows better.”

“I hope so.” Angelica leaned down, rubbed her nose against Maria’s. “Or I’d have his head.”

Maria smiled, pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead.

“You’re beautiful.”

She blushed. “You are.”

“We both are, yes.” Angelica continued the scalp massage. “But really— did he say anything?”

“No.” Maria closed her eyes again. Her ex-boyfriend’s face swam before her eyes— not the most recent memory but the way it looked back in sophomore year, jaw clenched and eyes angry. “He just looked at me, nodded.”

“I’ve torn men down for less.”

Maria laughed. Angelica squeezed her hand.

“Are you okay with it?”

“He did nothing wrong.”

“He did _plenty_ wrong.”

“You know what I mean.”

Angelica sighed.

Maria sat up, turned around. “Angie.”

Angelica reached out, cupped her cheek. “You’re very brave.”

She felt her chest tighten. “I love you.”

A kiss: sloppy, sincere. Maria buried her face in Angelica’s shoulder, inhaled shakily.  


“I love you too.” There were hands around her, safe and firm.

She forced herself to relax, failed. “I don’t like him near me.” His face was too vivid, voice a violent crescendo in her ears, _what are you going to report me who’s going to believe you you asked for it you_ liked _it you need me—_

Angelica held her tighter, hands rubbing small circles in her back.

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“I hate him, I hate him.” She pulled away.

Angelica took both her hands, squeezed them. “He’ll never touch you again.”

Maria nodded.

“I love you.”

Maria smiled.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She leaned in again. Angelica’s arms parted welcomingly, wrapped around her once again. A small kiss was pressed to her forehead. “Okay.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its time for that self-indulgent jewish chapter u know
> 
> also!! as you may have noticed, theres a chapter number now!! it looks like theyre should be 19 chapters in total. i especially hope most of you stick around for chapter 11 because thats a Big one and i think some of you will like it a lot okay okay u gotta keep coming back for that *jazz hands* spicy diagnosis
> 
> lastly, thank you so much for all your comments!! youre awesome and we love you all

Alexander snorted when Washington made the suggestion. “You’re kidding, right? You say nothing on the High Holy Days, but you want to celebrate _Hanukkah?_ ”

“Well, it was something Lafayette wanted to do last year.”

He rolled his eyes, bit the eraser on his pencil, and turned back to his homework spread out on the kitchen table. “I haven’t celebrated Hanukkah since I was nine,” he explained, underlining another portion of his Econ reading and scribbling _inefficient_ in the margin. “It’s kid stuff.”

“I thought it was something we could do as a family.”

Alex picked at a nail. “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t want to reduce G-d to a few candles and a bag of chocolate.”

“It’s your decision.” Washington sighed. “You could invite your friends.”

He perked up. “John?”

“I had LaFayette in mind, but… I suppose you can invite Mr. Laurens as well, if you promise to behave.”

“I promise!” Alex jumped up and rushed to the wall phone, punching in John’s number.

A deadpan replied. “Yo yo yo, Laurens in the house.”

“John! Can you come over for Hanukkah? For part of it, at least? It starts this weekend, and LaFayette might be coming! But I have to ask. But do you think you’d like—“

John had to slow him down so he could understand him, but Alex could hear him slowly getting more excited. “I’ve never been to a Hanukkah thing before. Should I bring presents?”

“Only if you want! Bring the gift of yourself, and we can figure it out from there.”

“Do I have to pray?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alex stated with emphasis.

“Then sure, I’ll come.”

“Awesome! Hey, while you’re here, like, and you can stay for as long as you want— we could peer-review too, I printed out some articles and— yikes! I’m getting the Washington frown. Anyway, say ‘hi’ to Phillip for me! See you tomorrow, bye!”

He called LaFayette next, grinning and bouncing on his heels. LaF responded with almost greater enthusiasm than his, babbling about whether they could help light the candles and how they hadn’t seen Martha in far too long.

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough, but finally, at noon, a compact sports car pulled into the Washingtons’ drive, LaFayette hopping out of it and pulling John behind him.

Alex pulled John into a tight hug as soon as he got in the door. “You made it!”

He pulled back, grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He raised his eyebrows and let out a laugh, and Alex turned to see Martha Washington in a bone-crushing hug with LaFayette’s arms around her shoulders.

“Maman!”

“It’s good to see you too, Marie,” she chuckled warmly while she patted their back and LaFayette pulled her husband into an enthusiastic group hug that he seemed to join awkwardly, but with a smile.

LaFayette hurried into the adjacent living room to chatter with their old foster parents, and Alex pulled John over to the stove.

“Are we making latkes?”

“Latkes are so mainstream. Do you know how to make churros?”

“Uh, no.”

“Here, I’ll show you. This is the way my mom taught me.”

John watched intently while Alex threw the ingredients into a saucepan, stirring vigorously, occasionally exclaiming “ouch!” when a hissing drop hit his arms, but not slowing down. “You see the flour? Get a cup— not too much! Shake it in while I stir.”

John’s hands were slow, calculating, his body near as he sprinkled in the powder. “Like this?”

“Yeah! But you can go faster with that.” He handed him the spoon. “Keep stirring! I’ll get the eggs!”

Alex stood back in satisfaction when they finished the dough. “Excellent. You’ve done excellent work, John. Now we just need to fry them and put on the cinnamon and sugar.”

A slow, wicked smile. “You have flour on your nose.”

“Shit, do I?” He rubbed at it.

“Nah, it suits you.” Before Alexander could react, a puff of flour hit his face. He blinked it out of his eyes to see John grinning, fingers white.

“John Laurens, you absolute scoundrel!”

John doubled over laughing, hair falling in his eyes. He flicked another speck of flour at Alexander.

“You’re _wasting_ it!” he hissed in protest, but couldn’t suppress a delighted giggle.

“Okay, okay—“

Alex grabbed a loose handful and splashed it into John’s curls. 

He laughed and sputtered. “Hypocrite!”

“Frivolous cur!”

“Cur?”

Alex threw more flour at him, shoulders shaking.

“Children, what is going on in here?”

“Sorry, Mr. Washington!” John wheezed. “Oh my—“

“We were just finishing the dough, and we—“

“ _Cur_ —“

They both dissolved into hysterics, Alex giggling into John’s shoulder and John apparently trying to clear his throat but only succeeding in giving himself the hiccups. Washington shook his head and slowly returned to the living room.

LaFayette poked their head around the corner, a glint in their eye. “Do you need any help?”

“No, no,” John insisted. “We’re fine.”

“Yeah, we’re all kosher!” Alex exclaimed, making LaFayette groan out a laugh and John start coughing, flour flying everywhere.

LaFayette did end up finishing the churros while Alex and John leaned against the counter. Alexander was careful to stand a couple hand-widths apart from him, somehow unable to stop himself from chattering about the cold, the upcoming break, how much he hated Thoreau, foreign policy, anything. He examined John’s face for signs of boredom periodically, but it didn’t make itself apparent in his bright eyes, the other boy chiming in with something about the distasteful metaphors in _Walden_.

Lafayette dumped a very generous amount of powdered sugar on the churros and called, “Papa! Maman! Come in here, we have finished the best churros in history!”

For the first time, Alex felt almost comfortable at the table, letting himself settle into his chair, the voices of his almost-friends and his foster parents circling around him as he licked powdered sugar off his fingers, digging his teeth behind his nails so as not to miss any sweetness. John, who still had flour in his hair, ate too many at once, and put his head down on the table in the middle of his rant about Donald Trump. Alex patted his back, nodding solemnly.

LaFayette was just about bouncing in their seat, fried dough apparently having no sway on them. “Can we light the candles now?”

Alex removed his hand from John’s back, shifted uneasily. “I don’t have a menorah.”

“That is okay! I brought one! I have very nice candles, I will go get it….”

The Washingtons shared a look as LaFayette half-shoved on their shoes and ran outside to the car, quickly bringing back in a silver menorah with curling branches and a bundle of clean, white candles in their hand.

Alex watched from the table as they lit a match with careful fingers, and George held the menorah in place to make sure nothing slipped. The Hebrew sounded strange but pretty on LaFayette’s French tongue; he closed his eyes, the imprint of his mother’s face briefly flickering over his eyelids with the candlelight.

He shook it off and stood up, hurrying over. “Be careful, your hair—!” Alexander gingerly plucked the shamash from LaFayette’s fingers, interrupting mid-bracha. “You’re going to get burned. Let me.”

LaFayette remained near as he finished lighting the candles, a more precarious task than it seemed. Alex felt scared of his own clumsiness. When he wiggled the shamash back into its proper place, he felt part of his insides flip over. LaFayette nudged him with their shoulder— he grinned, bumped them back.

Martha and George took over washing dishes, and Alex, John, and LaFayette sat in a comfortable trio, Alex still next to John.

LaF raised their eyebrows pointedly across the table, and John rolled his eyes.

Alex looked between the two of them. “What?”

John groaned. “It’s dumb.”

“It is not!” LaFayette interjected, poking his shoulder. “Go, go, go.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Alex fidgeted while John popped into the living room. He looked at LaFayette. “What’s going on? Is John okay?”

They were already tapping on their phone in mock disinterest. “I do not know anything. To ask me is futile.”

Alex was about to reply with something biting, but John shouldered back into the kitchen, hands behind his back. Sitting back down, he muttered, “so, uh, I guess LaF made me get you something, so… here it is? I hope you like it.” He shoved a book across the table.

Alex snatched it up. “The papers of Salmon P. Chase!” He turned it gingerly in his hands, grinning. “This has been on my wishlist for _months_.

John beamed. “Yeah, LaFayette said that Mr. Washington didn’t have a copy and that you had some big crush on him, so, yeah, I thought that that would— yeah.”

“It’s perfect.” He set it down to hug him quickly around the neck. “John, you’re the best.”

John rubbed at his face. “I try.”

“LaFayette, you’re excellent, I love you both. This should take more than the next two weeks— I love you. Are you talking to Mulligan? Tell him I love him, too. You’re all the best. Well, John is the best best but you’re okay, too.”

LaFayette raised their eyebrows. “Those words exactly?”

Alex laughed loudly, his hands practically vibrating. The sugar must be catching up to him. “Yes. Don’t you dare compromise my eloquence.”

—

“So you’re going back to Virginia for Christmas?”

Other students milled about them, whoops echoing over the campus. Thomas leaned against the school’s high, stone wall and scuffed his feet. “Yeah.”

James adjusted his books. “When will you be back?”

“January second. I can carry those for you.”

He half-smiled. “That’s fine.” His breath dissipated like white powder in the harsh air. Thomas worried for his health. New York was no good for it. James continued, “I’ll be stuck with my family for most of it, but you might come over once you get back.”

“Do I get to see your hot older sister?”

James Madison, who had no older sisters, rolled his eyes, cheek dimpling. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

James blinked fondly up at him, clearly stalling just as frantically as Thomas was. “You’ll text me.”

“Of course.”

James rocked on his toes, bit his lip. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I guess I’ll miss you too, a little,” Tom teased.

“Don’t get in the habit, mister.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

James startled at the sound of a car horn. He huffed. “I have to go.”

“Wait, I….”

James stared at him expectantly. Tom scrambled desperately— settled with brushing his knuckles on the other boy’s arm. “Knock ‘em dead.”

A weak smile. “I always do.”

—

“John!“

John beamed up at the strange lady approaching him, opened his hands in greeting. The woman kissed both his cheeks, squeezed his hand. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Wow, thank you...“ He paused. “...aunt?” He’d been at the family gathering for barely half an hour and already got approached by at least ten relatives he couldn’t name. None of them looked as genuinely pleased to see him as this woman, though, so John fought the Flight instinct.

“Nice try,” she laughed, squeezed his hand again. She had a firm grip. “I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers!”

That explained why he couldn’t remember her— not why she thought he would, but he wasn’t going to pry. “Oh?”

“Name’s Elizabeth,” she said, hooking an arm under his and leading him toward the kitchen. “I heard you are dating a girl my namesake?”

John flushed. “I used to.”

“Ah, bummer.” She laughed; her hair was very white, very frail, her makeup over-the-top. “Like father like grandson, I suppose.”

“Excuse me?”

She made him pour her a brandy, told him about the mean nurse in her elderly home.

“I suppose one can’t blame her,” she shrugged, chewing on a canapé. “My colostomy bag might be privately ensured but it smells the same.”

John coughed. She laughed, apparently pleased with his reactions.

She ended up requesting another drink, told John to pour himself one too; they remained in their corner, Elizabeth digging up old dirt on next to every person in the room.

“Any on my dad?” he asked, half-joking.

She winked at him. “Careful what you ask for.”

He placed his forearm next to hers, shrugged. She flushed, but laughed nonetheless.

 **John Laurens:** holy shit im bonding with my grandads first wife

 **John Laurens:** shes giving me alcohol bc she hates my dad

 **LaFayette:** we two have so much in common already

 **John Laurens:** holy shit tho shes leaving make up everywhere

 **LaFayette:** we all make mistakes

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** dont get drunk during a family dinner john

 **John Laurens:** wouldnt dream of it

 **John Laurens:** ill get drunk /before/ the dinner

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** :(

 **John Laurens:** <3

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** <3

 **LaFayette:** do i need to leave this chat

 

Mary, looking miserable, found him some twenty minutes later. He laughed, a bit light-headed from his third drink.

“John, the old people smell weird.”

“That they do.” He made place for her on the couch, patted her back. “Are you getting your cheeks pinched?”

“Yes,” she muttered, rubbed at her face. “And they say my name wrong.”

John laughed again.

She frowned, sniffed the air. “You smell funny.”

“It’s the old people.”

She squinted, not quite buying it. He just pinched her cheek, pulled out his phone.

**Phillip ate his second apple slice of the day, is now resting. I read him some of my econ essay but he remained nonplussed.**

John laughed at Alex’s texts, typed up a reply. Mary leaned onto his shoulder; he tilted the screen so that she wouldn’t see.

_hes just playing it cool. m sure youve changed his stances on internal policies_

“Are you texting Eliza?” Mary asked.

“Why do you care?” he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him, laughed. “Can I play Neko Atsume?”

“Knock yourself out.”

When she returned the phone five minutes later— there really was not much to do in the game— Alex had sent him five texts. He smiled, opened them.

**I’m not convinced. I feel like he might know something we don’t. How is the family gathering proceeding?**

**\- I just saw the Facebook messages. That sounds like a complicated family situation.**

**\- I hope this woman is not rude to you just because she holds a grudge against your father; that would be extremely immature. Not to mention just plain mean, you are a minor.**

**\- You are probably having a nice time, I will stop bothering you now.**

**\- Sorry.**

_hey hey hey no need to apologize_

_\- mary just snatched my phone no big_

_\- yeah liz was a blast she went off to talk to my grandparents now i hope theres a fight_

_\- how are you doing?_

The reply came not a minute later; John exhaled.

**I am good! Ms Washington wants me to get out more, but they still haven’t banned me from the library so that’s good.**

_do u not want to go out or?_

It took him a bit longer to reply this time. John looked around, noticed Mary talking to an old man a couple feet away.

_like you should hang w mull & laf theyd probably let you do ur reading while your with them too _

**That is sound advice.**

_south carolina made me wiser_

**< 3 **

A breath caught in John’s throat; he felt his cheeks heat up.

“John!” Mary was suddenly at his side, excited. “It’s dinner time.”

“Coming,” he shoved the phone into his pocket, paused. Mary scowled.

“I’ll save you a seat,” she walked away, a bounce in her step. John pulled the phone back to his face, typed up a reply.

_ <3 _

He barely had a bite during the dinner, too jittery to eat. His grandfather poured him a glass of wine as a gesture of goodwill; John remained silent through the entirety of the meal, throughout the ride home. He fell asleep with his head still swimming. He didn’t dare check the messages.

—

Mary was wearing a black velvet dress, her hair pulled back with a matching bow. She looked excited; it was Christmas Eve, and the two were decorating their second tree of the week.

“You’re making a red clutter,” she accused, took one of the ornaments off. “You need to space them out so it’s aesthetically pleasant.”

“Aesthetically?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned. “Is this your first time hearing this word?”

“Mary, don’t be mean,” Eleanor called from the doorway; John jumped up, not expecting her to be here.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. She smiled back, tentative.

“Yeah,” Mary agreed, undisturbed. “He’s being a man about it.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Eleanor asked. Mary shrugged.

“Probably dad,” John muttered.

Eleanor laughed. “Probably,” she gave him a wink, walked away. John placed a porcelain dove on the tree branch, sighed.

—

_HAHAHHAH ALEX_

_\- ALEX ALEX ALEX_

**John??**

**\- Is everything okay?**

_YEAH_

_\- BUT_

_\- DO YOU REMEMBER THE JACKSON PP_

**I wish I could forget.**

**\- Is he there???**

_in spirit, probably_

_\- my grandpa just called affirmative action liberal propaganda im pissing_

**He said what?**

_mary asked what affirmative action is oh my god oh my god_

**!! That sounds intense.**

_“does that mean john would get free money” consider me deceased_

**This must be horrible for you**

**\- Is there anything I can do to help?**

_dude chill hahaha its just funny_

_\- eleanor is feeling white guilt so she just poured me some rose i live_

**I’m sorry.**

_nothing to apologize for !! anyways._

_\- “John was not raised to demand everyone cater to him” they keep maids aLEX they keep maids_

_\- rose tastes like butt_

**Your family sounds horrible.**

**\- No offense.**

_yeah they are lmao_

_\- hows life at wash house?_

**It’s good! LaFayette came over today, we helped Martha make a pie**

**\- LaFayette did most of the helping, but I was there and George seemed pleased.**

_aw thats kinda adorable_

_\- our boy doing okay?_

**He makes me proud every day.**

_:’)_

_\- holyyyy shit they started again tune in on fb this is group chat material hahahha_

 

**msu crowd (9 people)**

**John Laurens:** How Did Gender Politics Ruin The American Economy

 **Angelica Schuyler:** ??

 **Angelica Schuyler:** oh my god you’re at the family dinner

 **Angelica Schuyler:** dish out babe

 **John Laurens:** he doesnt have many arguments but he makes up for that w sheer volume

 **John Laurens:** he- Jean Samuel Laurens, the grandDad

 **Angelica Schuyler:** i could take him in a barfight

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** HAHAHAHAHHA

 **Maria Reynolds-Schuyler:** i ruin the american economy everyday

 **Angelica Schuyler:** you ruin my focus during macroeconomics by being on my mind, Always

 **Maria Reynolds-Schuyler:** <3

 **Angelica Schuyler:** <3

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** ew

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** (jk you’re both radiant)

 **Peggy Schuyler:** johnn we love you

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** YES WE DO my boy my man

 **LaFayette:** Simone de Beauvoir shot jfk

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** i love you so much holy fuck

 **Peggy Schuyler:** whered john go

 **Peggy Schuyler:** if hes not back in five min we’re raiding south carolina k?

 **Angelica Schuyler:** ill get the car keys

 **Eliza Schuyler:** oh john!!! I am so sorry

 **Eliza Schuyler:** when’s your grandpa leaving?

 **John Laurens:** his plane leaves on 27th but tbh gods been knocking on his door for years now and he keeps hanging up

 **Martha Manning:** wow that metaphor sure made sense

 **John Laurens:** (six kidney transplants ayyyy)

 **Martha Manning:** six??

 **Maria Reynolds-Schuyler:** six?

 **Peggy Schuyler:** six??’ (ily mulligan)

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** CONFIRMED

 **HERCULES MULLIGAN:** (ily2 pegs)

 **Peggy Schuyler:** :D

 **LaFayette:** I will leave this chat

 **LaFayette:** By the way

_**LaFayette** changed **Hercules Mulligan** ’s name into **Momigan <3**_

**LaFayette:** new messanger feature

 **Peggy:** :DDDD

 **Peggy:** !!!!

—

_Alex i am drunk_

**I’ve heard wine does that to you, yes.**

_tell me a story_

**A story?**

_yeah its bed time_

**Alright? Apologies.**

**\- What kind of a story?**

_idk_

_\- what did you do with your day_

**I read the Federalist papers?**

_PERFECT tell me about that_

**You really want to know?**

_no but itll knock me right out_

_\- Alex?_

_\- sorry i was kidding sorry_

_\- i mean yeah i dont care about the feds much but i want to keep talking to you_

**I don’t want to bore you.**

_couldnt if you tried my man_

_\- what did these papers federal_

**Hah.**  
The three little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Alex was typing. John smiled, lay back into the pillows.  
It felt warm.

—

James laughed into his mouth, tasting of cardamom. “You are ridiculous.”

Thomas felt his head spin, hot from where he lay half-under James’ heavy covers, adjusted lower with his neck folded back so he didn’t feel imposing. James’ fingers lightly fluttered over his rough neck, jawline, and tilted his face again to claim his lips, sticky with wine.

Thomas felt somewhere in the stratosphere, so far gone he could barely think. He was warm down to his toes, so warm.

He swallowed. For what felt like the billionth time, he said, “I missed you.” It would never be enough. Trying to say what he felt when he looked in James’ eyes felt like trying to count the stars.

“Shhh.” James’ hands stroked his hair and smoothed his cheeks.

He blissed out over the affection, letting his eyes close. A throaty laugh bubbled up in his throat, and he palmed the front of James’ shirt. “I think we drank too much mulled wine.”

James laughed in return, then tucked a lock of hair behind Thomas’ ear. His eyes glittered in the dark. “You want to know a secret?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“It was virgin wine.”

Thomas’ eyes flew open. “You’re kidding me.”

James shook his head, shoulders shaking, a hand over his mouth. “Neither of us has an ounce of alcohol in us.”

Thomas playfully shoved him. “You bastard!” he hissed, but he wrestled a smile.

James coughed, still grinning. “It was good, though.”

“Okay, it was.” He didn’t want to bicker, and besides, James had put in all the effort to make that French recipe he liked so much, and James’s smile looked bursting. It had been good. In wonderment, he raised his arm and brushed the back of his index finger over the rich lines of his face.

Their legs tangled even more together as James snuggled closer from where he’d pulled back incrementally. Thomas felt his limbs dissolve, becoming almost indistinguishable from the other boy’s in the dark.

“So the evening wasn’t all bad, was it, darling?”

Thomas could only shake his head and tuck himself under James’ chin. He kissed his clavicle where his t-shirt had slipped down to show it with a press as soft and earnest as a promise.

James’ fingers ran a rhythm through his hair, hushed. “You want somethin’?”

Thomas gulped and mouthed a path from his collar to the back of his ear as an answer, gently sucked.

“It’s late. Sky’s black outside.”

“Y’said….”

“Okay,” James muttered with a fond tone because he and Thomas both knew he just liked to tease him. He prodded them over until Thomas rested on his back and James was straddling him, arms linked over his head. He could feel his breath. His thumb brushed over Tom’s wrist, making him shiver. “But you have to be quiet. My parents are asleep, and Nelly likes to get water in the middle of the night sometimes.”

Thomas nodded eagerly. “I’ll be quiet, James. I’ll be so quiet. Quiet as a mouse. Quiet as—“

To his delight, James cut him off with a swift “good” and a deeper kiss, a little less innocent now, and hands a good deal more wandering.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning in this chapter for implied past self-harm in the scene after john falls asleep

LaFayette buried their face in Hercules’ neck and suppressed a delighted scream by giving him an enormous raspberry.

They heard him choke in a laugh. “Help, help!” he stage-whispered in their ear. “My QPP is attacking me!”

“I am not!”

“I came out to have a good time—“

“I will _end_ you, Hercules Mulligan.” They gently punched his stomach, and he mussed their ponytail.

Other students groggily started clearing their breakfast trays, still slow and droopy-eyed the early morning after the break. The Schuylers, who had agreed to be driven early, were slumped against each other in a sort of puddle one table over. LaFayette had never felt better. “You haven’t finished your breakfast!” They pushed on Mulligan’s shoulder.

“You distracted me!” He covered their cheek in a succession of kisses.

They pushed him off and jokingly wiped their face.

“Hey.” Mulligan grinned. “Wanna see me chug this strawberry milk in one go?”

“Ooh, yes!” LaFayette bounced in their seat, hands under their thick stockings. “Drink, drink, drink!”

As Mulligan put the carton to his mouth and tilted his head back, LaFayette caught sight of John walking in, and was about to raise their hand when John put a finger to his lips. LaFayette smiled and winked, and he crept up behind Mulligan.

John slapped Hercules on the back, and he pitched forward, pink spewing out of his nose. “Laurens, asshole!” he laughed, coughing, not even turning around.

John and LaFayette fell into giggles. “Hey,” John gasped, fixing his hair.

“Hello!” LaFayette pulled him into a tight hug. “It is good to see you back in one piece!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed away and smoothed his shirt, still grinning. “Good to see you, too.”

“I disagree!” Mulligan yelled as he pulled John into a noogie, deliberately messing up his hair again, a wide smile on his own face. “What’s it like to be back in NYC?”

John rolled his eyes. “Well, y’know, I get to see you two idiots, so…”

LaFayette couldn’t hold back their smile as they examined their nails. “Both of you disgust me.”

“Now that’s a lie,” Hercules started, but John’s sharp intake of breath cut him off.

“Alex!”

The shorter boy rushed up to their table. “Hey, am I late?” he asked breathlessly, cheeks pink. He licked his lips. “I thought I’d get here early.”

“You’re good! You’re good, dude!” John rubbed Alex’s arm.

Alex jumped into a hug, which John slowly returned, arms looking like they weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves.

Mulligan gave LaFayette a pointed look. “They—“

“Hush.” They smushed their hand into his cheek.

He groaned in protest. “This is victimization.”

John twisted his head, still hugging Alex. “What’s victimization?”

“LaFayette is suppressing my freedom of speech—“

“Wow, I didn’t know LaFayette had become John Adams!” Alex yelled, drawing a few strange looks and eliciting a barking laugh from the Schuylers’ table.

John turned to look, then buried his face in Alexander’s hair.

Mulligan widened his eyes at LaFayette again. They just kicked him, grinned, and stole a dry Froot Loop. “Go, hot stuff, class is starting.”

—

John walked downstairs Wednesday morning, barefoot and still sleepy. Mary was in the living room, eating Cheerios and watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch.

“Morning, smurf.” He muttered, ruffling her hair. She frowned, swatted his hand away.

“Good morning to you too.” She looked up at him, snorted. “Your hair looks funny.”

He smoothed the unruly curls down, grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he ruffled her hair again, messing up her twin bunches. “So does yours.”

“John!”

Their laughter ran short as the doors opened; Mary breathed a sigh of relief when they revealed Eleanor, dressed in a pair of washed-out mum jeans and a cream cardigan.

“Hello, you two.” She smiled, voice soft. “Good morning, John.”

“Morning.”

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you’d like some.” Her teeth were so white; John fought the urge to stare. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, bangs straight, skin pale pink and glowing. Eyes pale green, cold. Nothing like his mother. Nothing like him. “Mary, lunch is in a couple of hours.”

His sister sighed, exaggerated in a way he knew she must’ve picked up from him. “I know.”

“Don’t stuff yourself on that.”

“Won’t, mum.”

Eleanor smiled at John, shook her head. He responded with an awkward attempt of his own.

The coffee had grown lukewarm, but he could deal with it. The kitchen smelled like fresh fruit. His eyes felt dry, tired.

“Why doesn’t John go to the church with us?” Mary asked, out in the corridor. John’s stomach dropped.

“Ah, sweetie.” Eleanor’s voice was a whisper— John had to strain his ears to hear. “It’s his choice.”

“So he doesn’t believe?”

John nearly laughed; a part of him hoped she never outgrew this, never got a filer.

“Why are you worrying about this?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Does that mean he’s going to Hell?”

John dropped the mug, cursed. The conversation in the corridor shut down.

He collected the broken shards bare-handed, in a rush. Mopped the floor up, found his palm was bleeding. Mary walked in just as he pressed a tissue to the cut.

“Hey.” He laughed, meeting her eyes. “I can officially never call you a klutz again.”

“You’re bleeding?” she asked. Her hair was still all messed up.

“Just a little.”

“I’ll get you a band-aid,” she announced, solemn. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Easier said than done.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the favour.

Eleanor walked past the door as he stood waiting, peeked in.

“John.” Her voice had that artificial note again, that thing that always made him think of blueberry Peeps. “I hope you won’t take it too personally.”

He forced a smile.

“Children are just full of questions.” She shrugged, laughed. His facial muscles felt strained.

Mary returned then, face all business-like.

“Show me the hand,” she demanded. Laughing, John complied.

She stuck a Snow White band-aid over the cut, smoothed it out with focused care.  
“Good?”

John nodded. “I think you just saved my life.”

“No need to be sarcastic.” She grinned at him. He patted her head, careful not to mess with the hair again.

“Whatever you say.”

—

Angelica smiled sweetly at her phone, propped up on her elbows and kicking her bare feet behind her on the bed. Eliza focused on her own fingers on her guitar, her stomach doing an awkward, guilty flip.

Angelica giggled, and Eliza had to ask. “You doing anything with Maria this Valentine’s day?”

“Haha, yeah, probably. Geez, we’ve been together for a while,” she sighed. Eliza checked; she was still smiling. “I’m so damn lucky.”

“Yeah, Maria’s great.” Eliza smiled in turn, wishing desperately that she could empathize with the flutter in Angelica’s voice, the darkening of her cheeks. All she felt was distance.

Angie squinted at her. “It’s gonna be your first Valentine’s day single since 2013. How do you feel?”

“It’s fine.” She played an arpeggio. “Single is good.”

“I know that.”

“It’s just… the pink and the chocolates and all that shit. I feel…. John was the person I went to to get away from all that.” Her fingers slipped. She scratched her arm. “Which I guess, you know, that’s telling.”

“It really is, girl.” Angelica sent another rapid-fire text before tucking her phone into her pocket and sitting up next to Eliza, knees to her chest. “I promise it won’t be too bad. We’ll buy all the discount chocolate the day after. We can watch Peggy make xyrself sick.”

Eliza giggled, then sighed. “I just don’t want to be at that party.”

“We’ll watch so many Ghibli movies. It’ll be great. I swear.”

She half-smiled. “You’re so wonderful.”

Angelica ruffled her hair. “Hey. Sisterly duties.”

“You know, I like you and Maria much more than Hallmark.”

Angelica lay her head on Eliza’s shoulder and took out her phone again. “That sure makes the two of us.”

—

“I give up, I give up,“ Dolley Payne laughed, wiping at her mouth. “God, I need water.”

John laughed, pushing back at the bile going up his throat. “Wash away the taste of defeat?”

“Didn’t know defeat tasted like your dads shitty wine,” she noted, accepting the glass Martha had handed her. “God, thank you.”

“Not quite god,” Martha muttered, avoiding her eyes. 

Dolley laughed again. “But getting there?”

Martha shrugged.

“Who won? I want a go at the winner.” Angelica appeared at the table, positively glowing- there was a massive forming hickey on her collarbone, red lipstick stain on the collar of her shirt. “Is it Dolley? I bet it’s Dolley.”

John ‘boo’-ed as Dolley shook her head.

“He is powered by stubborn spite and recklessness,” she said. “I don’t dream of competing with that.”

“Smart,” Angelica noted. “Okay, Party Host, let’s go.”

“He looks like he’s about to throw up,” Maria appeared alongside her girlfriend, lips smudged and hair dishevelled. 

Angelica pouted, look at her girlfriend. “Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

Maria grinned. “I’m saying it’ll be easy.”

John lasted for two rounds of competitive Never have I Ever before excusing himself. 

Maria and Angelica shared a celebratory kiss. 

The kitchen was quieter, somewhat better lit. John poured himself a glass of water, sipped at it slowly. Colours blurred before his eyes, a good sort of shivers going up his spine.

“Having fun?”

He jumped. LaFayette was at the doorway, their lip bright pink, face smudged. 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “You?”

“Mulligan ate too much brownies and is now feeling sick,” they shared. “So, naturally, it is a blast.”

John laughed again.

It was surreal; his father was out of town again. His father was out of town, had been for the last ten days days, and then Eleanor and Mary decided to pay an overnight visit to her parent’s house and—

And John decided to throw a party and trash the place because why the fuck not. It’s not like anyone expected any better of him. Leaving him alone for the weekend, they were basically daring him to— why disappoint. 

“Tu are, as would say, ha,” LaFayette tried. “Un peu pouchard.”

“Poochah at you too, babe.” 

LaFayette laughed, clapped their hands. John poured himself another drink. 

He roamed the house for a while, unsure of what he really wanted to do. His brain felt fuzzy, chest light. Peggy ran into him at one point, gave him an Oreo cookie; he ate it perched on the top stair, bobbing his head to the beat of the party music blasting in the living room. 

Someone bumped into him from behind. He looked up, grinned at the familiar face.

“Alex!”

“John?” Alex looked lost, the faded blue hoodie too big on him. John reached out, tugged at his pant-leg.

“Sit down.”

Alex did as asked, small smile on his face. “Hello.” 

“Hello to you too,” John smiled. Something nagged at his mind; he frowned.

“Is everything all right?” Alex eyes were large, worried. “Do you need something?”

“We should check up on Phillip.”

Alex blinked. John met his eyes.

“Let’s check up on Phillip.”

“We can do that,” Alex agreed, helped him stand up. 

His room was even quieter than the kitchen. John walked over to Phillip’s tank, stared down at their turtle. 

“Hey, little guy,” he whispered, face pressed to the cool glass. Phillip was chewing on a leaf, not paying him much attention. “Ha.”

“He seems...” Alex paused by John’s side, crouched down to study the tank better. “Content.”

“Doesn’t care about his old man at all.” From John’s peripheral vision, he could see Alex biting the inside of his cheek. “They grow up so fast.”

“I’m sure he will come to appreciate all your sacrifices,” he said, squeezed John’s shoulder. A surge of electricity shot through him, fast and dizzying. 

“Ha.”

He stood up, walked over to his bed.

Alex followed him, eyes focused. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again. “You seem—“

“Sit down,” John whined. Alex did so. “I’m tired.”

“It is past midnight.”

“How much longer can you stay?”

Alex’ reply got lost in the surge of sounds, colours; John laughed, asked him to repeat.

“You are drunk,” Alex noted. His voice didn’t sound very harsh. “You should lie down.”

“No.” John whined. “No, you’ll leave.”

“I won’t.” 

John turned his head, ever so slightly; Alex’ face was right there, eyes earnest. 

“I promise to stay here as long as you want me to,” he insisted. His lips were chapped, soft brown. His hand was on John’s forearm, steadying, making him feel like he’d implode any second. He smelled like soap, like apple cider. “But you really should—“

He didn’t get to finish. John felt himself lean in more than he actually remembered deciding to do so— Alex’ lips were warm, more than warm, as chapped as they looked but still oddly soft. His heartbeat sped up, stopped, every nerve in his body suddenly hyperaware. Alex’ lips were burning. He pulled back, stunned.

“John?”

He opened his eyes, unsure when exactly he’d closed them. Alex was staring at him, face unreadable.

The silence stretched for an unidentifiable length of time. John felt as if his lungs were about to collapse. “Shit.”

Alex’ eyes widened.

John lurched back, acid rushing up his throat. “Fuck, I’m so sorry—“ He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _think_ — “Jesus, I am so so sorry, I didn’t—“ 

Alex said something. He couldn’t hear him.

His throat ached. His eyes wouldn’t focus. 

“Shit.”

Everything went blank.

—

“John?” The name came out as more of a rasp than anything, his throat empty. Alex’s mind was blank— for once, blank. His hands moved almost separate from himself, weak as they gently adjusted John’s head to somewhere near the pillow. His bed—

He swallowed. It felt dry. John’s hair was soft. “John,” he tried again, but it was no use. He was passed out… or ignoring him, or…. “John.” Alex lay down next to him, curled up in a comma, small beside him. He felt the whole world swirling around him as he lay, still, mindless. His thumb ran over and over his lips. “You…”

A memory, finally: choking hazard. Sleeping while drunk was a choking hazard— John could start vomiting in his sleep and choke himself. He could die. He could be dying right then without Alex knowing.

Hurriedly, his brain still soup, he tried to pull John up by his shoulders, but the other boy (the other boy, the other _boy_ ) sunk deeper onto the bed. He would keep near him, then. Alex felt like he was suffocating, a hundred feet beneath the sea.

He couldn’t tell how long he lay there, staring vacantly at John’s face and the curls spilling over it, counting the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. Somehow, he couldn’t quite bear to touch him. He wanted… he _wanted_ ….

It had been a long time since he’d been kissed.

A knock on the door startled him. He inched closer to John, ready to defend him if need be.

“Alexander?”

The voice was gentle, silken: Eliza’s. He bent his head inward.

She was there, behind John. “Is everything all right?”

He stared at her stomach, clothed in white.

“Alexander—“

“Choke.” He shook his head, swallowed. “He’s going to… he’s gonna die.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No— him, he—“ Frustrated, his words spilled out, brain abuzz. “Sleeping while inebriated can result in vomiting— premature— he could choke, die in his sleep. He’s dying, Eliza.”

She bent to turn John’s shoulders and brush his hair from his face. Alex clenched his fists.

“Would you like to go outside?”

He shook his head. “I have to stay.”

“Would you… mind if I stay with you?”

Alex bit the inside of his cheek. The night felt too private, too sacred. He couldn’t let her see his mouth.

“If you fall asleep, I can make sure he’s okay.”

“I won’t fall asleep.”

“Okay, then you can cover for me if I drift off.” She smiled shyly.

He shrugged.

She sat on the other side of John. He hand returned to his forehead, tracing calm, slow circles. “He was so happy you came.”

 _Happy_ — Alex felt again in a rush the soft, full press of his mouth, the slightest breath, how he tasted almost medical. He pressed a loose fist to his chest. “Why’d you break up with him?”

Eliza paused— laughed. “Oh. Well, I don’t really…. It was a long time coming.”

“He’s a good person. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“It wasn’t a question of goodness.” Her voice was soft, her hand resuming its strokes.

“Then why would you do that?”

“I don’t think I was quite what he wanted,” she said slowly, deliberately. “As for me, well… well. I think there’s good in everyone.”

“Everyone.” That seemed quite the opposite of the truth to Alexander. He examined the freckles on John’s face. They looked holy.

“Yes.” She seemed earnest. “But just because he’s good, that doesn’t mean we were good for each other. Good as friends, perhaps, but…” She laughed again. “Have you seen Angelica? Maria did a number on her.”

“No.”

“I did. I think they’ll get married.” Her voice went quiet. “I’d like that, if they got married.” She paused to fiddle with her sleeve. It was denim. “I was a flower girl once, you know. For my aunt’s wedding. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I felt… sorry.” She coughed, chuckled. “I’m rambling, sorry.”

“What, did you want to marry John?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“Well, did you?”

She rolled up her sleeves and resumed petting John’s head. “Once, I thought maybe. When I was fifteen.” She hummed. “Now, no. There’s no danger of that, I promise.”

“Oh.” He hauled himself to a sitting position, glanced from John’s face to hers. Her dark brows were gathered in a small frown above her downcast eyes. He noticed a band of rippling white skin on the back of her forearm. In fact, her arm looked speckled, he noticed. He reached out and touched it.

She winced away, but curled a lock of John’s hair around her finger. She began to braid it.

“How did that happen?” Alex asked.

“Oh, I was just clumsy as a kid.”

“…. Are you still clumsy?”

She offered a shy, warm smile from under her curtain of hair. “Much less so, now.”

He swallowed. A little of the tension in his chest unfurled. “Was he always like this? You’ve known him for longer than I have.”

She opened her mouth— sighed. “I… met John in my freshman year.” She looked down again, concentrating on the braid. “He’s gotten much better.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, he still drinks, but it’s not, like, for breakfast, you know. Usually. And he used to act out a lot more.”

“I see.” Alex thought back to John’s white-hot anger after Lee’s publication. His tightening jaw, blazing eyes. He felt thrilled, then guilty.

“He’s been through this before, is what I mean. He’s so strong.” She rubbed her arm. “Everyone I know is so strong, in their own ways. Every time I sit in MSU, I think about it. And every time Maria comes over. And every time I see him smiling.”

“Yeah.” He bit his tongue and looked at John. “Yeah, they’re better than most people.”

“He’s smiled a lot more since you came along, you know,” she murmured. When his head rose, her eyes met his, steady and kind. “It does them good to see that.”

“I hope so.” Jitteriness returned to his legs. “I really, really hope so.”

—

**Hey, John. I figured we should talk.**

**\- Actually, we should really, really talk.**

**\- Please text me back I need to talk to you**

**\- Can you at least giv me a word here? Like if its no then fine but im not gonna just forget about it, I don’t want that and I doubt you do, either, so please, text me back for both our sakes.**

**\- Or just mine I guess its really just mine please tlak to me**

**\- I miss you.**

—

Light seeped in through the colored windows, air thick with an aroma John couldn't name. The lady sat next to him kept scowling at his pony tail. His chest felt unreasonably tight.

He’d spent most of Saturday trying to sleep and watching old Community episodes. He checked the group chat to make sure no one had died, confirmed that he was alive too; ignored everyone for the rest of the day. 

Holy _shit_ , did he fuck up.

Alex would never talk to him— hopefully? Shit, he was probably pissed, John would be too; how many friends would he straight-up harass while drunk before he finally got it in his head to just stay away from—

His eyes started burning. He inhaled, exhaled.

It would’ve been okay. He was okay with dating Eliza and was okay with not dating another girl ever again and yeah what Maria and Angelica had did inspire envy but they were so— constantly— the hickeys and the hints at sexy times and— John really didn’t need any of that. He’d have been okay. He’d just, fuck it, he’d just drink his way through life until there was no more life to drink through and that was a half-decent plan and maybe he’d get weird feelings about his 8th grade math teacher or that one intern that worked for his dad or younger Javier Muñoz but he was going to deal with it.

Perverting all over his friends, people who fucking trusted him, that was sick. He was sick. He’d thrown up five times yesterday and ate absolutely nothing in the mean-time but he could still feel stomach acid rising. The preacher was still talking but he couldn’t make out a single word; he knew, rationally, that no one was looking at him but he could still feel them stare. His sight blurred, his chest threatening to implode—

Mary stood up and John scrambled up to follow. There was a moment of silence,  
people presumably praying. Nails digging into his own palm, John forced himself not to cry. 

 

—

**Hey John, it’s me again. Well, obvoiously. You can see my number, and you aren’t dumb. You’re far from it, in fact, so I don’t know why you aren’t replying lmaoooo lmao**

**\- I mean, you can hate me if you want I guess.**

**\- But at least say it outright, oh my g-d, your’e driving me crazy. You drive me crazy.**

**\- What happened at the party was**

**\- FUCK, I don’t know what to say. See? You’ve messed up my grammar. Shame on you.**

**\- Not really though. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I mean that, okay? Nothing.**

**\- I can’t stop thinking about**

**\- You, and how you**

**\- Man**

**\- Just**

**\- Okay, I’m going to stop now, I**

**\- Please text me back. I promise I have a lot to say, and sound much more intelligent saying it.**

—

Aaron was always struck with how different Theodosia appeared on camera than she did in her texts. In person, she was less bubbly, spoke low. She hunched her shoulders to hide her gangliness, earthy skin acne-scarred, hair just long enough to frizz out past her ears.

She was the loveliest person Aaron had ever seen, and damn, did he feel lucky.

“What is it, like, two and a half years now?” she was saying.

“Two years, seven months.”

She popped another BBQ potato chip into her mouth. “I can’t believe it.” She smiled slightly, then. “I’m glad it’s you.”

He wanted to reach through Skype and across the country to Georgia, wanted to be gone from the city and its ugly noises. “You’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful. I’m glad it’s you, too. You… you have a certain importance to me.”

She chuckled. “I should certainly hope so.”

His eyes watered with his smile. He always found himself like this when they talked, which was rare: unbearably open, suddenly unable to stop his mouth from moving or his heart from twisting into strange but pleasant shapes. He felt entirely soft. “You remember the first time we talked?” he asked, as he often did.

“What, the first pen pal letter, or the first Skype call?”

“Both. Oh my G-d, I was in braids and a Brownie vest, I can’t believe myself.”

She leaned back and smiled. “And I was so jealous of you, too.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Quit flattering me.”

“I mean it.” Suddenly, his eyes felt wet. “You’re so smart and… and kind, and beautiful, I mean it.”

“Wish I could hug you.”

“Me, too.” He blinked and took a deep breath. “How has your day been?”

“It’s been okay. Better now I’m with you, you know that. It’s too warm, too.”

“Who’s jealous now?” He grinned, leaning back.

“Every other girl in the school ‘cause they don’t have a guy like you,” she teased. “But really, I’m gonna go to Harvey’s tomorrow and get so much discount chocolate. I’ll get so fat, it’s gonna be great.”

“I assume I’m coming, too.”

“It’s a date.”

“Well, I’m just there for the bargain.”

“I’m sure you are.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and he doubled over laughing, stupid and a little sore with how much he loved her, as always. Her long fingers and sharp, almond-shaped eyes, and her long neck— _Jesus_ , this couldn’t be good for his health.

“How ‘bout you? How was work today?”

“All right.” He nodded, swiping his cheek, still grinning. “I don’t have as much time now that winter break is over, but I should make rent fine.”

“I should totally move in with you.”

“I agree with that.” He rubbed the inside of his wrist. “Have you looked into colleges?”

“I should be able to get out of state if I can get enough scholarships and there ain’t any… complications. There haven’t been!” she continued at his worried frown. “I’m good, it’s just… the debt, you know? We still have hospital bills stacked up from eighth grade.”

Aaron nodded. He remembered. He didn’t like to think about it. “You’ll come up here? To New York?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I’ll go wherever you go.”

She laughed. “That’s adorable.”

He smiled back, lightness in his chest, and a little pain. “Let me know where you’re going. I promise I’ll meet you there.”

Her eyes were soft. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?”

“Time is a matter of perception.”

“Aaron!” she laughed. His name on her tongue sent chills through his whole person. “You need some rest. Don’t be a baby.”

“Then don’t baby me.”

“You got it, babe.”

“That’s better.” He pressed his palm to the screen, unwilling to let go.

She did the same. “Hey,” she murmured. “Goodnight to the handsomest guy in New York.”

He blinked, choked. “To the prettiest girl in Georgia.” _The most precious girl in the world._

—

Alex’s legs hurt. They wouldn’t stop shaking, though he’d paced for hours, mind poring over and over again what had happened. Away from it now, he knew he should feel clearer, see a course of action. He didn’t— couldn’t.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about his mom. He wanted her, wanted her to pet his hair and sit down with him and give him boy advice. He knew it was stupid, he was stupid. She wouldn’t have even understood why it was such a _problem_ — 

_His dad’s pretty nasty._

He pulled his hair. Checked his phone again. No new texts. His legs started shaking again, along with his hands. _Shit, shit, shit—_

He loved him.

It was 11:36. The rest of the house was deadly dark. Alexander crept downstairs and mixed three packets of instant coffee with lukewarm water in a tall thermos in the bleakly illumined kitchen.

When he got back upstairs, he took out his laptop and set the coffee firmly beside him. The light glared at his burning eyes. He knew what he had to do. 

—

Alex walked up to John first thing Monday morning, not saying a word. John stood up straight, forced his face to remain blank, and braced himself for whatever was coming.

A letter was presented to him, no warnings or explanations. He took it: a thick envelope, the size of his notebook. His name was written on the top, cursive.

“Uh,” he said. Alex’s rocked on his heels, eyes everywhere but on John’s. “Please read this as soon as you make the time.” He was still not standing still. “I will be awaiting a reply.” He stopped. John blinked. “Have a good day.”

John stood there for a good couple of minutes, trying to decide if this was bad or not. 

It finally dawned on him to read the letter. He tore the envelope open, pulled the papers out— five of them, covered in closely-knit text. It occurred to him, then, that the five minutes he had left before class would not be enough to read it all.

He asked for a toilet pass five minutes into calc, letter safely folded on the inside of his shirt. He locked himself in a stall, pulled it out.

_Dearest John,  
It occurred to me that you may have not fully understood my texts, and that, I can hardly find you at fault for. They were rather incoherent, I admit, and I apologize. However, I would like to explain myself in full, and have decided that this should communicate to you best what I meant to convey prior to this day, over the weekend after the events at the party._

 

He closed his eyes, breathed in.

 

There went nothing.

—

He’d just. Never come back to the lesson, then.  
His heart was in his throat, his head fuzzy. He felt warm, cold… weird? Confused. Drunk, but also, not. His hands were sweaty.  
_Understand that I thought my desires were different from yours— they still may be, but if you reciprocate mine in the slightest, in a tenth of what I do— in a hundredth— I will be the happiest person alive, to whom no one can compete. I assure you that with my whole heart._

There was a lot of it going on in the letter; Alex wrote a lot. It took John a while to get the full gist of it, to let himself get the full gist of it? Alex called him— Alex—

He brought his knees to his chest, pressed his face against the denim; his cheeks felt hot. His heart was pounding.

 _I suppose that what I’m saying is that you make everything warmer, and when I’m around you, I can’t feel the cold._ John bit down on his lip, smiled. _What I’m trying to say is that I love you._

He reread the part again, again. His whole face was on fire. He couldn’t really move, but couldn’t keep still either.

—

John scribbled a brief note, _meet me @108 for lunch_ , gave it to LaFayette (the only one he trusted not to peek) to pass on. Stopped pretending to try pay attention to anything going on around him. Kept the letter in his pocket, at all times.

Holy shit, this had to be a prank.

Just that Alex didn’t do pranks. Just that Alex wasn’t the kind of— he pinched himself, over and over again, daring his body to wake him up because this couldn’t be true.

_I am absorbed in you, to the degree that it hurts at times. It’s not a feeling I ever want to lose. I would rather die than spend those months away, from you, John._

If Alex really meant all that— ha, he was wrong but if he really meant all of that— any of that—

Martha gave him an odd look, nudged his shoulder. He shook his head, scared he’d jinx it.

Alex was already there when he arrived, two painstaking hours later. His face was red, hands twisting his pony tail.

“Hey,” John managed. Alex met his eyes, his own wide and questioning. “So—”

“I know it might be a great amount of information to take in and I will understand if you need more time,” Alex started. John took a step forward; if he stopped walking forward he’d run away, probably. “I know my words sound extreme but I would never push you or resent you for not returning my feelings. You are very dear to me, lover or friend or—“

“Alex,” he cut him off. “I’m...“

He wanted to say something; something good, something to rival Alex’ own words. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight, he wanted to cry, and he wasn’t even sad and wow he was a wreck,

“Shit,” he muttered, leaned in. Alex’ eyes were very wide.

“John?”

“Can I—“ A deep breath. He could hear his own bloodstream in his ears. “Shit. Can I kiss you?”

Alex nodded. He leaned in.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

He felt his eyes burn hot, felt the wetness on his cheeks before he even registered it, felt Alex’s lips on his own and wanted to scream, wanted to press them together until everything else stopped feeling real, wanted to pull away and run and never stop running _this was too good too good_ too—

Alex pulled away, cupped his face. “John?”

He couldn’t speak; couldn’t really breathe either. He wrapped both arms around Alex’ torso, buried his face in his hair. 

“John, please answer me—“

“I’m okay,” he said. His voice sounded raspy, weak. “Shit— I—”

“Did I do something? I know I—“

“I like you too.”

Alex stopped talking. John could feel his hands shake, even when digging into Alex’ scalp.

Those weren’t the words Alex used, they both knew that, but right now—

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“I really, really like you.”

They were silent for a few moments. Alex started tracing fingers through John’s hair, slow and hesitant.

“Does this mean we’re—“ John tried. Alex’s hand didn’t pause; thank god. “Like, an item?”

“Do you want us to be?”

“Do you?”

Alex paused. “If I need to write another letter….”

John snorted. He felt Alex smile.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Alex said ‘yes’ this time too. John finally stopped crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex' full letter is published as part 3 of the series !! thanks for reading


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry but we actually forgot to include a kinda important scene in the last chapter between the kiss and the first texts!! weve edited that in now its p important so i recommend reading that if you havent already before reading this!! theres some implied past self harm in the scene but probably not wrt who youre thinking
> 
> theres a mention of cancer in the last scene of this fic (with aaron and theodosia).

John caught up with Eliza just as she was about to enter the classroom, out of breath and red in the face. She smiled at him; he grimaced in return.

“John?”

“We need to talk.” He was rocking on his heels. She frowned, nodded.

“Is it an emergency?”

“Not really,” he laughed. His face was really red. “But if I don’t tell you now I might never.”

“Oh?” she let him take her hand, lead her into another classroom; a part of her worried they’d be late for MSU, another part knew Martha Manning would definitely be late-r. She looked up at John, smiled.

“Yes?”

His face was _very_ red. She began to suspect it wasn’t all from physical exertion.

“John.” 

“This is really awkward,” he chuckled, tugged at the back of his hair. “Uh. So.”

“Is it something bad?” she asked; his face fell.

“No— no, no! Well,” he paused. “It’s not— I don’t think so?”

She frowned.

“Maybe I should just say it.”

“Maybe.”

He laughed; she stuck out her tongue.

“Wow, okay,” he cleared his throat. “I know we only broke up a while ago and we’ve been dating for way longer and—“

 _Oh_. Her whole face must’ve lit up, for John stopped again.

“What— wait.” His hand dropped. “Did Martha tell you something?”

“What?”

A beat. Neither knew what to do next.

“John, just tell me—“

“I’mdatingAlex,” he breathed; his whole face flushed a dark brown, eyes wide. A goofy grin made way onto his face, and she could physically see him rushing to wipe it off. “Uh.”

The words were not very enunciated but the namedrop and the body-language carried the message fine. She laughed.

“John!” she had to hug him; she was going to hug him. He seemed surprised by the affection, but accepted it fine. “Ah, I’m so happy for you two!”

He was quiet, still. She leaned back, studied his face.

“You’re not mad?” his voice was very quiet.

She sighed. “Of course I’m not mad.” She booped his nose; he rolled his eyes, albeit still flustered. “I was the one to break up with you, remember?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Plus, you and Alex look really happy together,” she added. “I’m really glad you found each other.”

He looked down, muttered a ‘same’. “But, the gay thing—“

“John, we always did work better as friends.” 

He shrugged, laughed. “True.” A beat. “Wait, did you know?”

“I couldn’t have _known_ ,” she made quotation marks with her fingers. “But I wouldn’t have been – I mean, I’m not surprised.”

“Ah,” he was still frowning. “Did we not work out because I’m gay?”

“I think we worked out fine,” she booped his nose again. It was just a very boop-able nose. “Just not romantically.”

“Huh.”

“I think I might be happier with this.”

“Huh.” He was smiling now. She hugged him again. 

—

Alex turned a page, muttered something under his breath; the notes he was furiously scribbling down already took up two pages. John glanced down at his half-assed biology homework, decided he just didn’t care enough. The library was mostly empty, a couple people scattered about with their laptops and book loads. Their seating gave John an unimpeded look through the window. It was going to rain soon. 

His heart was going to explode.

He wasn’t really sure what he was feeling but he knew it was a lot. His hands kept sweating, his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Alex’s body was right there and he wanted to get closer but he was already too close and _everyone_ was looking just that he knew that no one was—

He felt his breath-rate increase; Alex looked up, worried. John caught his breath, managed a smile.

“I’m good.” He wasn’t good. Alex’s hand reached under the table, squeezed his. He squeezed back— hoped Alex would be able to read the message, knew his tongue wasn’t working properly.

Then he let go because there were people around.

Alex’s face fell and John pretended not to notice.

“I think Eliza figured us out before I did,” he said in a whisper. Alex sat up. “Were we that obvious?”

“I don’t think you were obvious.”

“Yeah, and you had me on edge.” He smiled. “I need to tell the duo.”

“Hercules and LaFayette?”

“Yeah.”

“They won’t mind.”

“I know that.” John dared another touch of Alex’s hand. It felt like playing with a grenade. “Still.”

Alex’s hand was limp in his. “You don’t need to.”

“Hm?”

“If you don’t wish to tell them, I won’t make you.”

“I know that, dude.” 

Alex’s reply was barely audible.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I do want to tell them.”

“So do I.”

He squeezed Alex’s hand. He was still not meeting his eyes. “I’m going to do it right now.”

Alex’s eyes flew up. “What—“

“This is why god gave us the group chat feature.” He’d already pulled out his phone. 

“John—”

“Alex.” He hooked his foot around Alex’s ankle, smiled. The other smiled back.

“Won’t they be busy?” Alex asked, already leaning in.

John laughed, “Nah.”

 **John Laurens:** yo i have an announcement

 **Peggy Schoo:** and anyways that’s why death by glamour is better just my two cents

 **Peggy Schoo:** why hi to you too john

 **doc marthens:** youre just too much of a hipster  & megalovania is a classic

 **doc marthens:** @john weren’t you going to the library w alex

 **LaFFy Saffy:** libraries aren’t for facebook c c c

 **LaFFy Saffy:** also His Theme

 **doc marthens:** oh fuck off

 **John Laurens:** im so glad you seem interested in the content i bring to the table

 **Angelica Schuyler:** Coming to us after Alex turns out to be too adamant about not fooling around during study time? Sad.

 **John Laurens:** fucking cold

 **Peggy Schoo:** angelica is my favourite sister

 **Peggy Schoo:** after eliza

 **Mom:** I love you too peggy :)

 **Mum:** OKAY does anyone else think this’ll get confusing fast

 **Angelica Schuyler:** Nah.

 **Kat Von D Outlaw:** my girls right

 **Kat Von D Outlaw:** eliza is all-american hercules married into eu

 **Mum:** laf is french tho

_**LaFFy Saffy** set the nickname for **Hercules Mulligan** to **Mari**_

**LaFFy Saffy:** Done  & Done

 **Mari:** <3

 **LaFFy Saffy:** <3

 **doc marthens:** oh laf you sly bastard

 **LaFFy Saffy:** shh

 **John Laurens:** ANYWAYS

 **John Laurens:** not that anyone cares, but

 **Mom:** I’m so sorry John!! please do talk

 **Mom:** *thumbs up*

 **Peggy Schoo:** does eliza know something we don’t

 **Peggy Schoo:** also sb think of a nickname for John this is pissing me off

 **John Laurens:** you’re pissing me off

 **John Laurens:** Ang  & Alex don’t have nicknames either

 **Peggy Schoo:** shit you’re right

_**Peggy Schoo** set the nickname for **Alexander Hamilton** to **Hamboy**_

**Peggy Schoo:** he’s a hamboy!! Hamboy

 **Angelica Schuyler:** I am so proud of you.

 **Angelica Schuyler:** Also, don’t you dare.

_**Peggy Schoo** set the nickname for **Angelica Schuyler** to **watch me fucko**_

**watch me fucko:** Wow.

 **doc marthens:** not that this isnt great but john had something to say

 **John Laurens:** martha is the only one here who respects me

_**Peggy Schoo** set the nickname for **John Laurens** to **JLau**_

**JLau:** ....

 **Jlau:** that’s fucking weak

 **Peggy Schoo:** :(

 **Mari:** ANYWAYS

 **Mari:** hows your playdate with alex going

 **JLau:** pretty good

 **JLau:** no one ate no one’s action figure yet

 **Mari:** :’) my kids know how to behave

 **Mom:** @me next time

 **JLau:** also while we’re at the subject of play dates

 **Jlau:** it’s not just play

 **Peggy Schoo:** WHAT

 **JLau:** we’re dating

 **Mari:** WHAT

 **JLau:** gotta go watch my boyfriend scowl at his history textbook now ! bye

 **doc marthens:** HAHAH FUCK YES

 **doc marthens:** YES YES YES

 **LaFFy Saffy:** we popping the biggest bottles when jalex happened ALREADY

 **LaFFy Saffy:** johnlex? 

**doc marthens:** PEGGY OWES ME MONEY

 **JLau:** I came back to say you’re terrible friends

 **JLau:** I can’t BELIEVE you’d compare me to Makorra

 **LaFFy Saffy:** <3

 **Hamboy:** <3

 **doc marthens:** SCREAMING

 **watch me fucko:** I am so so so happy for you two !! 

**Hamboy:** Thank you, Angelica.

 **JLau:** hehhe

 **Mari:** JOHN I AM SO PROUD

 **LaFFy Saffy:** likewise

 **LaFFy Saffy:** feras mal a lui et je nuirai toi @hamilton

 **doc martens:** holy SHIT laf

 **doc martens:** a l’aise, blaise

 **hamboy:** Je convienne.

 **doc martens:** holy shit alex

 **watch me fucko:** I’m seriously bringing champagne to msu thursday.

 **watch me fucko:** Kiddie champagne*

 **watch me fucko:** Somebody get a cake.

 **hamboy:** It’s really not necessary.

 **JLau:** no no let them

 **JLau:** I want it made from a scratch

 **watch me fucko:** Like you’d know the difference

 **Jlau:** fuck off

 **watch me fucko:** Read my name, asshole

 **Kat Von D Outlaw:** congrats boys :*

 **Peggy Schoo:** the nickname feature was a mistkae

_**Peggy Schoo** set nickname for **John Laurens** to **get the boy**_

**get the boy:** you couldve gone with hamboy

 **Peggy Schoo:** FUCK

 **get the boy:** okay i gotta ask

_**Peggy Schoo** set nickname for **John Laurens** to **get the hamboy**_

**get the hamboy:** is no one surprised

 **get the hamboy:** jesus christ peggy

 **Peggy Schoo:** ily too

 **Peggy Schoo:** and no

 **Mom:** Peggy!

 **doc martens:** what peggy meant to say is

 **doc martens:** you’ve never stated your sexuality and we do not assume So!

 **Peggy Schoo:** that’s literally not what i meant to say

 **Peggy Schoo:** also he called himself straight like thirty times

 **doc martens:** pegs i love you but for the love of god

 **Mari:** it’s not like we Knew

 **Peggy Schoo:** we knew

 **watch me fucko:** PEGGY!

 **Kat Von D Outlaw:** alex and you just looked v enamoured

 **Kat Von D Outlaw:** call it wishful thinking

 **doc martens:** yeah! you guys are good for each other

 **JLau:** Hah.

 **JLau:** Well, gotta go fr now

 **JLau:** have a good one

 **Mom:** Bye! :)

 **Peggy Schoo:** uh oh eliza is storming up to my room

 **Peggy Schoo:** pray 4 me

 **doc martens:** rip

 **LaFFy Saffy:** seconded

 **Peggy Schoo:** D:

—  
Alex rested his cheek on his fist, gazing perhaps a little too blatantly at John's half-grin, flushed cheeks. He tapped his own phone against his textbook, drummed his fingers.

John gave him a quick shove on the shoulder before turning back to his book, putting his leg up on the table and bouncing it.

Alex flushed. He felt, as he had when they first met, the stark contrast between them. He could see the edges of collarbones receding into his shirt— could feel the thickness of his own legs.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said, quickly shoving his phone in his pocket and gathering his notes.

John frowned. He felt a twinge. "Yeah, okay."

He slipped into the last stall, covering his mouth against the smell. It was one thing he missed, at least. Girls' bathrooms smelled less awful, even in public schools. He recalled it from fifth grade: high schoolers opening their mouths to thickly line their eyes, flourishingly careful with their long, intricate nails, and the unsettled flip in his stomach when he saw the stretches of their tall, smooth legs.

He rubbed his thigh. He was useless, useless, they made him happier than he could— he should have dated one of them if he was so—

He took a deep breath, tried to see straight. He couldn't get into this cycle. John deserved better than that. He deserved his best behavior. Still, he felt resentment boil in his stomach. If he could just cut out all the bad parts of himself, stop being messy and poor and loud, he still wouldn't be enough. He knew that.

He suddenly wanted to text Aaron— resisted the urge, bit his knuckles. He was hated there, too. Inferior.

He thought of LaFayette, their kind eyes and quick fingers. He could....

But no, not them, not now. The explanations, and the— he knew LaFayette didn't _want_ the things he wanted. What they had with Mulligan, it wasn't like this, there was no expectation... expectation of....

He rubbed his eyes. His binder felt sticky. What if it stopped? What if it all stopped? The kisses and the hand-holding and the "ily" texts.... His chest burned. Hell, they had just started dating and Alex was already fucking it up. This stage was supposed to be cute, he was supposed to be able to fall into him, be smart, be cool. He was supposed to be better than this.

Someone had written "Monroe sucks cock" on the door of the stall. Alex stared at it, his eyes blurring over. He licked his lips.

He'd deal with it later. He didn't have to tell him right away. Hell, John was sweet, John.... They could barely hold hands in public. He could get away with it a little longer.

That night, he told John he had work. It wasn't exactly a lie, but he stayed up online anyway, biting his pinky nail and ripping the cuticle. He ended up getting sucked into one of the later seasons of Gossip Girl. He angled his laptop so he could watch until his eyes burned, guilt building with each episode. Guilt over everything: his laziness, the heavy exhaustion in his limbs, the emptiness between his legs, the emptiness in his ribcage, how badly he wished John was there with him.

He fell asleep at 4 am, nauseous and empty, head swimming, the tips of his fingers tingling.

—

“You ever think about telling anyone?”

James pulled his head back from where he was in the process of sucking a hickey into Tom’s neck. “Why?”

“Well. I don’t know.” He shrugged, face red. “It’s just… isn’t it weird keeping it in all the time?”

“Yes, I mean, why are you asking me this now?”

“I don’t know!”

“We could have this conversation, like, at home.” James kicked the side of the toilet. “Or something.”

“Yeah, I guess!”

“You guess?”

“Ugh!” He covered his face with his hands. He felt James buttoning his shirt up for him, fiddling with his collar. Like he was getting him ready for church. His heart sank for more reason than one.

“Who do you want to tell?”

“I just— I don’t know! Forget I brought it up!” He peeked through his fingers.

James squinted at him. “Do you actually want me to forget?”

“Do you think Adams would mind?”

“No offense, honey, but Adams would flip his shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” He let his head fall back, stared at the ceiling. “Burr?”

James planted a light kiss below his jaw. “I really don’t know. I don’t think he’d tell.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t get why you’re thinking about this all of a sudden.”

“It’s not… I mean, it’s not _all of a sudden_ ….”

James sighed. “I know.”

“What do you think?”

James shrugged.

That’s when Thomas started panicking. “Do you know what we should do?”

“It’s not exactly an indelicate topic. Not everything can be…” he rubbed his temples. “It depends on whom you want it to be. Not everything can be settled with polite conversation.”

“I’m aware of that!”

“Well, I’m just—!” He crossed his arms, sucked his cheek. “I’m just trying to deal with this. We could try contacting Angelica, see if there’s space for—“

“We are _not_ joining—“

“Then I don’t know what you want me to do,” hissed James.

“It could get back to… my house.”

“Yeah.”

“And that would be bad. Like, really, really bad.”

“Yeah.”

“So what should we do?”

James rocked on his heels. “Long term or short term?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then, short term, you stop worrying and make out with me.”

He half-smiled despite himself. A little of the anxiety bubbled into laughter, evaporated— just a little. “And in the long term?”

“Working on it, babe.” James leaned up, looping his arms around his neck, and Thomas bent down to meet him. He kissed him long, hard, a little desperate. “I’m working on it.”

—

“So, have you talked any more to that guy yet?”

Aaron picked at his nails.

“ _Aaron._ ”

“I just haven’t had the time.” He glanced up from his textbook and extensive notes to Theodosia’s face on the screen, which was someone intent on her own homework. “I trust you didn’t want to Skype-study just to domineer my social life.”

“What social life?”

“Touché.” He smiled, and she smiled back.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Aaron—“

“You make me happy.”

She sighed, then laughed. “Honey….”

He frowned, set his book down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me drama, come on. I know there’s always shit going down there.”

“I don’t care about that, I want to talk to you.”

“And I want to hear some gossip, so spill, babe.”

He rolled his eyes again, a dimple in his cheek. “James and Thomas still think they’re covert.”

“Oooh, they’re always fun.” She wove her head back and forth. “Anything new?”

“Same as they’ve always been. I don’t know. How about you?”

She shrugged. “Might graduate early.”

“I could do that!” He broke into a grin. “We could do that together, meet up a year early!”

Her face contorted. “I just want a diploma.”

“I promise it’s not too much— I can do the work if it would mean seeing you. I have apps prepared already, don’t worry. Where do you want to go?”

She put her head in her hands.

“Theodosia?”

The call cut off.

Panicking, Aaron scrambled for his phone. _theodosia?? darling are you okay?_

**i just thought i could prove i was smart**

**\- that i was worth something**

_i don’t understand what you mean. youre so smart and special. please tell me whats wrong i need you_

**no you don’t**

_theo i love you no matter what you can tell me anything i promise. i promise you_

_\- theodosia?_

**the cancer came back**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey its happy surprise chapter time! wanted to publish this early, so there wont be a chapter this weekend. (wish me luck on the ap tests tho yikes)
> 
> there are a lot of trigger warnings for this chapter, so ill list them here. if you want to skip anything but still know what happens, im putting warnings here and summarizing at the end of the chapter:
> 
> scene 1: involves cancer + misgendering  
> scene 2: mentions past sexual abuse  
> scene 3: has talk of suicide, psych industry stuff
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

The thing about emancipation was that it came with certain responsibilities. An emancipated child had the responsibility, for example, to cook and clean for themself, earn much of their own pay, and attend school regularly if the court so decided.

Aaron Burr had not missed a day of school since February 6th of the previous year. He drove himself to school in the morning, drove himself to his job at the library, and drove himself home from there. His car was something he took pride in. It proved that he didn’t need anyone to keep him afloat. He could float just fine on his own.

Now, he sped forward without a thought for school, nothing but a wad of cash stuck in his pocket and the pepper spray on his car keys to provide security. The car bumped and jangled around him as he pushed through the highways on a direct route to Georgia. The night deepened; his eyes burned. He could think of nothing but those words, those four, dreaded words that stabbed his chest like knives: _the cancer came back, the cancer came back, the cancer came back, the cancer came back._

He only made one stop on the drive, almost falling over when he got out of the car. He found himself praying for the first time in years as he purchased what he needed, breathless with the whisper of _Christ Almighty_ slipping from his lips. _the cancer came back the cancer came back_

He pulled up to the hospital at early dawn, rushed dazedly in with his plastic bag in tow. “Please…” he rasped at the front desk.

“May I help you… ma’am? Is this an emergency?”

“I need to see Th— Theodore Bartow. Cancer.” _it’s back_

The nurse at the desk squinted, clicking through a clunky, black computer. “Are you a relative of his?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, a cousin. Second cousin. Please, I’ve known him my whole life. We’re family.”

“Can I see some ID?”

He nodded hastily and fumblingly whipped out his driver’s license.

Her eyes widened when she saw the _M_. “Ah.”

“ _Please_. Please, ma’am.”

She pursed her lips. “Second floor, third door on the right. Don’t let me catch you causing trouble.”

“Bless you,” he breathed before snatching it back and running up the stairs two at a time, his chest burning.

When he reached the doorway, he stopped in his tracks. She was _there_ : head lolled— long, dark arms stretched out to hold a book— one knee drawn up.

He couldn’t speak.

She glanced over, then startled. Wide, brown eyes latched on his own. “Aaron?”

“Theo.” He slumped, then rushed over to collapse in a chair beside her. He took her arm and kissed the back of her hand, over and over. Her skin was gorgeous, soft. “Theodosia.”

She choked on a laugh and moved her hand to his face. Her thumb on his cheek was heaven. “Why the hell are you here, huh? You ain’t supposed to be here. Jesus, you drive all night?”

He nodded.

“Dammit. You idiot.” She scrubbed her eyes, book abandoned. “You’re too good for me. You… you aren’t….”

“Never enough.” He lay his head on her stomach. He could feel her hipbones. Her voice was deep and unobstructed. She smelled like salt and spices. He breathed it in: a new thing about her he could keep, treasure close to his chest. "Nice to meet you," he laughed breathily. His shoulders started shaking.

Her hand petted his head. "I wish it could've been under better circumstances. I can't believe.... Oh my G-d."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Baby, darling." He lifted his head to see her swallow and sigh. "I can't fuckin' believe I'm going through this again. And you, this is too much, I wanted to keep you out of this, I—" She sighed. "I just can't believe this shit."

"Me, neither."

"And you... Jesus, Aaron, you didn't have to do all this. Wanted you to see me when I wasn't stuck on a fuckin' mattress."

"I got something for you."

"Oh, hell. Sweetheart."

He pulled the cheap wig he got out of the bag. "For when chemo kicks in."

She wiped her eyes again, eyebrows scrunched up, but smiling nonetheless. He placed it on her lap, and she ran her fingers over it. "It's so big and curly."

"I thought you'd want it to look natural."

"It's burgundy, Aaron."

"I'm sorry." He gulped.

"No, no, don't apologize. Fuck." She blinked hard. "I'll look kinda like Janet Mock."

"That's good."

"That's very good." She scraped her blunt nails gently over his scalp. "Come on up here?"

He raised his head and scooted the chair up. Her eyes watered, smile closed-lipped; she took his face in her hands. He shivered.

Aaron leaned in painstakingly slowly, heart pounding, and pressed his lips to hers. She mouthed in turn, getting to know him. His shoulders unclenched. He suddenly felt how exhausted he was. He knew she must feel the same— worse. But kissing her was relieving, almost therapeutic. Ten years of tension, across states and parents and their bodies came to a peak, dissipated. Her lips were warm and wide and chapped. She tasted human, preciously so.

"Wanted to get that in," she murmured when they parted. "Y'know, before."

"Before nothing." He glared. "You're the strongest woman I know."

"Aaron, listen. I really want you to be prepared for this. Things could get real ugly real soon, and I need you to be able to deal with that."

"I don't want to." His voice cracked.

She squeezed his shoulder and frowned. "Honey, it is what it is. Let's face the facts, I might be dead in the next couple months. And it's not like— you're the only one who—" She broke, face twisting up, low sobs escaping her mouth. She covered her mouth, gasped through it. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.“

Aaron lay his head below her chin and kissed her neck. He could smell her there. 

"Promise you'll make them get my name right. If I do, please, please, make them call me Theodosia. Don't let my fucking headstone say it wrong."

"Won't be a damn headstone."

" _Aaron._ "

"I promise."

She took a deep, quivering breath. "You really need to sleep."

"Don't wanna."

"My dad won't be back 'til evening," she murmured. “You could stay.”

“Okay.”

“Come on, come in here.”

“Is that against the rules?”

“Since when have you given a shit?”

“Hah. Yeah.”

She shifted and pushed her book and wig off the bed, and he squeezed in beside her, wrapping as much of himself around her body as he could. She kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, and he started tracing patters on her long, smooth collarbone. Before he knew it, he passed out, drowning in the smell of her.

—

As soon as John and Alex walked into MSU, Angelica was there, pulling John tight into a hug. Alex stood aside, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Ew," John muttered, hugging her back.

"I am so proud of you."

"It's pretty great."

She rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his cheek, which he sarcastically wiped off. Alex wiped his own cheek, too, an exhausted reflex movement. He forgot how much he’d been sleeping, whether he had, having thrown himself back into work after one night of complacency— it still wasn’t enough to take his mind off it, but maybe—

_I can lie to anyone else, lie my way out of anything, but I can't lie to you, you're too—_

Mulligan and LaFayette tried to hug John both at once, Mulligan saying something about a cake that Alex couldn't quite hear, then pulling him to the side of the room while LaFayette pushed.

_Why can't I lie to you?_

It was loud. He normally would have liked that, normally noise would be good, he needed to—

_You are everything. I can't do this—_

"Hey." Angelica's arms were around him, suddenly, and his shoulders relaxed as he pulled her close, nose in her clavicle. In the midst of everything, he'd forgotten how good she smelled.

Her smile was dazzling when she pulled back; then, something shifted. "John says you've been working a lot."

"Somewhat. I have a lot to do. There’s a debate coming up."

She flicked his nose. "Eliza's a bit worried about you."

"Why should she be worried?"

"Why should you?” She folded her arms, rocked. “Is there something wrong going on with you and John?”

He shook his head. “Like I said, I have a lot to do. Looking for scholarships—“

“You don’t have to bullshit me.”

“Angelica, it’s _fine_ ,” he snapped.

She pulled back, a confused frown on her face.

He sighed. “I’m sorry.” She was being kind, she didn’t deserve this— she smelled like home, smelled like— “There’s a debate coming up,” he repeated. “I should text Jefferson, get him to practice with me.”

She half-grinned and touched his shoulder gently. “Hey, if you want a fight, you can always fight me. I’d dare say I’m better read than you.”

“That’s a challenge?”

“You know it is.” She ruffled his hair. “Seriously, text me. I’m gonna go have fun now, ‘cause I’m _proud_ of _you_ and your _boyfriend_.” She sauntered to the cake table.

Alex rubbed his forearm, then followed. Mulligan was smearing icing on John’s face. Alex sat and lay his head on John’s shoulder, warm and comforting, at least for now. His head swam, his chest hollow-feeling.

He felt a sticky smear on his own face, opened his eyes to see John’s fingers.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

“Sleepy.”

“Hah, same.”

“I can’t believe he’s napping for his own celebration,” Peggy complained, then reached over and helped smear the frosting into his face.

He glared and stole a napkin, wiped it off and laid his head back on John’s shoulder, their loud voices dizzying around him.

He asked him again when the hour was up. “You good?”

“I’m fine.” Alex pecked John on the cheek to prove it. “Go on, I’ll stay behind and clean up.” He glanced to where Maria and Angelica were sharing similar, if slower, goodbyes. “Promise.”

John squeezed his hand, nodded, and left. Alexander’s throat hurt at how quickly John had believed him. His eyes stung. He knew it wasn’t fair of him, he knew that, but he still felt empty.

He half-heartedly shuffled the books back to their proper places until he acutely realized he was alone in the room with Maria. He tried to ignore the burning on the back of his neck, but his chest felt like a grenade.

He heard her movements stop. “Hamilton.”

He turned to see her leaning against a desk, hands in her pockets. “Yes?”

“You okay?” Her voice was slow and deep as honey, her ruby lips in a perfect pout.

He tried to laugh. It came out strangled. “Don’t know why everyone keeps asking that.” He swallowed. “You don’t usually clean.”

“Angelica does it all the time,” she replied. “I figure I owe her a little now and then.” She tilted her head, poised like a swan. “She’s worried about you, you know.”

“She shouldn’t be.” Hot in his chest, so hot. “I’m just tired, I’m… I’m tired.”

“C’mere,” she drawled. “You aren’t gonna talk to me from all the way over there. I’m no expert, but we could work this out. Not really that I give a damn, but I don’t like all this tension in my safe space. So let’s talk it out, or you can bottle it up and get out, I don’t really care.”

Alexander wrinkled his nose. He stepped toward her, rising to the challenge, getting a little too close for comfort. Her eyes flickered down. Those eyelashes… damn.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s troubling you?”

He could smell her perfume. His head was light. “I’ve been tired.” He was gonna explode.

“Tired of…?”

“Of…” He closed his eyes. She was quiet, and he could feel her warmth, and her softness, and with his eyes still closed, he leaned in, in, melted into her. His mouth touched hers: full, waxy. Her hip was a glass-blown curve on his thumb.

Hands touched his shoulders— pushed him away. He drew back, eyes dazed and heartbeat racing.

“Y’know…” Maria murmured. She slowly touched her fingers to the edge of her lower lip, wiped. Her voice was delicate and guarded. “I was in a pretty abusive relationship when I met Angie. Came here new and kinda lost, fourteen, got swept up by this tank of a senior.”

Alexander took a few moments to process her words. “What?”

Her eyes were still cast down. “It was Angie who talked me through bad nights, and when the time came, it was Angie who took my case to the principal and made sure that jockheaded asshole would never see graduation day. Spitfire,” she mumbled, laughing. “Yeah, she got it. You got it.”

“Maria…”

“So, y’know, there was a time I might’a let you do that sorta thing and get away with it.” Her eyes met his. Burning. “Time I might’a let you put your hands all up in me and walk away like you ain’t just like every other man on this Earth. But if you think I’d _ever_ cheat on Angel, you got another thing coming, mister.”

His heart was in his throat. “I—“

Her forest-fire eyes never left his, not even to blink. “If you ever, _ever_ dare touch me again, I swear to Christ, Hamilton, I’ll rip your hands off with my teeth.”

Alex was breathless. He stumbled back.

“Now, get your ass out of here and work out whatever the hell is fucked up between you and your boy. John Laurens deserves your respect,” she spat. “Ten seconds, or I start screaming fire.”

“Point taken,” he breathed. He ran out without another word, untied laces flopping. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall. Maria’s eyes still glared in his mind as if he’d looked too long at the sun.

—

Alex closed the door and immediately sat down on John's bed, glaring intently at the blankets. He rubbed his hands over the green. Green like money, like envy, like his _eyes_ , which were really the fault of all this. He'd said they could talk, talk. _Talk, talk, talk—_ “John, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His boyfriend (for now, anyway, that is, as if he wouldn’t leave Alex for this, the idiot, the absolute shithead, the—) slowly sat beside him. Those long legs. “… All right,” he replied. “Shoot.”

Alex took a ragged, shallow breath. “I mean I— I was going to tell you sooner, I’m so sorry for not conveying this information to you at an earlier… an earlier appointment, I shouldn’t have lied to you, I—“

“Alex, it’s fine. You can just tell me.”

His name grounded him. He realized his hands were in his hair. He took them down, clenched them together. _Spit it out, spit it out, just spit it—_ ”I’m transgender.” He gulped. There. He’d said it. He rocked front and back on the bed, his chest tight. “I mean, I was assigned female at birth. But I’m not a girl, I’m _not_ , just because they thought so, doesn’t mean that.” He scanned John’s expression anxiously. His head felt floaty and light.

“Oh, um… okay.”

He desperately tried to read him. 

“I get it. Kind of, at least. It’s fine with me.”

Alex let out a deep sigh of relief. He giggled a little. “Jesus.” 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t see you as any less of a guy. You’re still my boyfriend.”

Alex leaned against him, relief still shuddering down his body. John started stroking his hair: heaven. He smelled safe and lovely. “I didn’t want to…” He coughed. “I mean, in the possible eventuality that something happen between us, I didn’t want to be… unsatisfying to you.”

John chuckled lightly. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Alex felt warmth spreading through his chest. “So you really aren’t shocked?”

John thought. “Nah. Lafayette’s like a sibling to me, and besides, you aren’t as mysterious as you think you are.”

“Oh?” Alex bristled slightly. Did John think he wasn’t interesting enough now?

John kissed his head. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say to me that could really shock me.”

“I tried to kill myself last year.”

John jerked back. His eyes went wide. “ _What?_ ”

Alex retracted into himself. Surprise lay cold on his tongue. A moment of weakness. Impulsivity. A nasty thing that shouldn’t be mentioned. He dug his thumbnail into his fingers. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, what? We are _not_ forgetting this!”

Alex flinched. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— it doesn’t matter. If you want to break up with me, you can, I get it—“ He regretted his snap decision further with every word his rash mouth let fall.

“I won’t break up with you.”

Alex’s eyes smarted. “Go ahead. You can just do it, I won’t force you to stop.” He was going to lose him. He couldn’t do that, he _couldn’t_ –

“No one is breaking up with anyone today, you hear me?”

He swallowed. He resisted the urge to point out that in all likelihood, somewhere in the world, at some time in the last twenty-four hours, it had happened. “Yeah.”

“Just… can we talk about this?”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

John’s soft hand reached his. It felt like a touch from another world. “Can you start from the beginning? Why the… why would you do something like that?”

Shame twisted its hot knife in Alex’s stomach. He felt the words rising in his throat, licked his lips. Decided to speak. “It was a lot of things,” he began, annunciating with excruciating precision. “I was alone much of the time. My mother, as you know, died when I was twelve. We were… lying together.” He could still taste the vomit in his mouth, dizzying grief. “I moved in with my cousin, and the whole time, I was just thinking, I… I should’ve gone with her, and then when Peter committed suicide, it just seemed natural. I’m not a coward, I don’t want you to think that. I wasn’t scared.”

“I believe you.” John’s thumb ran a rhythm on his hand. “You’re no coward.”

Alexander’s voice softened. “I’d be lying to you, though, if I said I’d never considered it before then.” He let the quiet stretch for a moment while he breathed. “I’ve always been like that, in a way. Staring at the sea. Thinking. Since I was little, just….” He remembered, as if in a dream, the gentle warmth of the lapping waves on his little brown feet. Feet that didn’t feel like his own. “But I didn’t try until I turned sixteen. I held out. I’m not weak. I lived alone. In this apartment, over the shop where I worked. I read, all I did was read and work.”

“So, what did you do?”

He smiled bitterly. “Pills. It was inefficient.” His stomach clenched. He resisted the urge to snatch his hand away.

“And… what happened then?”

Alex paused.

“You don’t have to tell me. I probably shouldn’t be asking this much, but….”

Alex shook his head. “It’s fine.” His cover was blown at this point, anyway, and he needed to be honest. “I was put in an inpatient treatment facility. Some of the expenses, I covered, others were donated. I pay people back what I owe them, I’m not like that.” He breathed. “I was diagnosed with depression, then anxiety, sort of tossed back and forth between impersonal doctors, but they came to one conclusion in the end. That summer, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder.”

He could see John nodding. “Huh.”

“It doesn’t mean that I— I’m not gonna freak out on you, okay?” Alex blinked hard. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear. It’s not like that, John, I’m not dangerous. I'm not bad. You might think it's a bad thing, but it makes me ambitious, means I can push myself farther. But I wouldnt... I wouldn't direct that at you.”

“Didn’t think you were.” John nodded. “Just trying to think on it. I don’t know much about that kind of thing.”

“Well, you know me.” Alex smiled in spite of himself. “Just a bunch of behavioral shit that I do.” He started counting them off on his fingers. “Let’s see: impulsiveness, self-destructive tendencies, abnormally rapid and intense mood swings— I hate that the most— anger. Fear of abandonment, the way I think about people. I possess a blurred line between reality and my imagination.”

John frowned slightly. “Like, hallucinations?”

“Sometimes,” Alexander admitted, heart hammering. “It happens. However, while some individuals with BPD experience them more intensely, often in comorbidity to a schizophrenic spectrum disorder, mine are relatively minor, and in fact one of my less impactful symptoms.” He took a deep breath. The academic jargon comforted him.

John laughed a little. “You’ve certainly done your research.”

“Well, they do say to know thine enemy.” He scanned for any trace of hostility, disgust. Alex could see each individual freckle on John’s face stand out in exquisite definition. The inside of his chest felt scooped out, and it quivered before him.

“So you got what you needed, right?” John rose into seriousness again. “It won’t happen again?”

He frowned and pinched the back of his arm. “I do not enjoy making promises to you that I can’t keep.” He sighed. “With anyone else, maybe I wouldn’t be so forward. But you... you’ve made yourself quite important to me, and I don’t want to act in a manner detestable to you.”

“You’re saying you’ll try again.”

“I don’t know!” John winced; Alex quieted. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I didn’t _expect_ to make it this far.” He scratched at his arm steadily. “I’m here on borrowed time, and I know that. Washington and I are both well aware of that fact. I can either die or become a famous lawyer or politician.”

“And those are your only options.”

“I do not know what else I should offer.” He sighed again, knowing his answers were a disappointment. He wasn't _good_ for anything else, hardly good at this. “I don’t mean to alarm you. If it’s any comfort, death hasn’t gotten me yet, so I think I can push my boundaries just a bit farther.”

“Alex…”

“What? Am I wrong?”

John shrugged, shoulders drawing in. “Like I said, you ain’t a coward.”

Alexander realized that his hold on John’s hand was so hard, his knuckles were white. He quickly loosened the grip, but kept John’s hand in his, running his thumb over each of his fingers. His skin was the whole world, and had to be.

“Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, Alex turned John’s hand over and traced the soft pad of his palm. He smoothed the dip of it like the surface of a stone, and let himself fall into it for a moment. The rest of the world was too harsh, too cruel. He wanted to rest.

“Can I kiss you?”

Alex nodded. He felt John’s free hand on his chin, guiding his head up so softly, softly, and then John’s lips were on his, even softer, and he crumbled with fluttery clenches of his chest. He could smell him, feel it when John’s hand clenched around his own. Little shudders rippled over his body like rain. He pulled back and held John’s face in his hands, grip firm and voice shaky. “I’m not going to leave you.” He suddenly felt that conviction so intensely, it flooded his senses. “I won’t leave you, John Laurens.”

“You better not,” John muttered. “I’d have to kill you.”

Alexander broke into a laugh and hugged him, head on his shoulder. John’s arms were tight around his back, safe. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Thank you for loving me.”

John squeezed. “Alexander.” Alex’s neck received a quick kiss. He felt like his body was bobbing in the sea, his head above water. He knew John deserved better, felt too haughty or too numb to say it.

When George picked him up from the house, Alex remained stone-silent in the car, fiddling with his sleeves and shrugging in response to questions. Words tumbled over themselves in his head, whispers echoing occasionally around his ears. For some reason, he couldn’t speak, lead weighing down his whole body. Relieved and exhausted at once, he wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep.

When they got through the door, Martha was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. She placed a marker in it and smiled up at him. “How was your visit, Alex?”

He froze. His head swam.

She frowned. “Alexander?”

Unbidden, hot tears leaked down his cheeks. He gasped, still stuck in place, and then sobs escaped his open mouth, loud and uncontrollable. His hands were stuck at his sides, and his shoulders shook. He couldn’t breathe.

She rushed over and gathered him into a hug. He buried his head in her shoulder and cried in long, ragged yells. He felt five years old again. He was too tired to be mortified. It hurt, it hurt.

“Alexander,” George ordered. “Explain yourself. We are worried. We have tolerated this behavior from you long enough, yet you continue to—“

He was cut off, presumably by Martha. “Wrong time,” he heard her murmur. Sick-feeling, he dug his head into her soft shoulder, cried and cried. “ _Mamá, mamá,_ ” he heard himself whispering. “Please.” When he tried to push her away, regain his dignity, regain _something_ , she kept her steady arms on his shoulders. He was suffocating.

He sat at the table fifteen minutes later, a mug of tea in his hands. His eyes felt raw but good. He cleared his throat. “I told John about St. Croix.”

Martha’s hand paused in its circles on his back.

George asked, “how much about St. Croix?”

“That I’m trans." He breathed, licked his lips. "And my attempt. And inpatient. And m-my diagnosis.”

Quiet. “Are you… sure that was a good idea?” he asked.

“He said it’s fine.”

“That can be really scary for someone to hear. It was scary for us.”

“But you _knew_ ,” Alex said. “You knew when you took me in. That was your decision.” _Problem child._

“But how do we know you won’t try again?”

“I don’t know,” Alex mumbled. A twist in his chest.

“If you attempt again, you know you’ll have to have a longer period. And graduating when you want would not be an option.”

Alex glared. “I’m not stupid enough to fail again.” He took a long slurp. “Not that I will. They’re stuffing me with enough pills already, I think I could get creative.” He caught their shocked expressions, George’s muffled, Martha’s stark. He coughed. “I’m just _saying._ ”

George rubbed his face, arms not quite steady.

“We just wish you’d talk to us more,” Martha murmured, her hand resuming its circles. “You’re still just a teenager. We’re both glad you’re making friends. But we’ll always be here for you. You can’t just rely on one person, sweetie.”

Alex shrugged.

“Once a week, perhaps.”

“We still need to get dinner,” George reminded him.

He pushed past the guilt and reluctance building in his stomach and muttered an, “I’m sorry.” _I don’t owe you anything._ He tried to convince himself of it— almost started crying again.

“You’ll be okay,” Martha said, hugging him once more.

Alex looked down at his tea. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll be okay." His mind wandered back to his books waiting for him upstairs, faithful and inviting. “I’ll be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay heres the rundown of scenes
> 
> scene 1: aaron drives to georgia, sees theo in the hospital
> 
> scene 2: alex is stressed about telling john hes trans, tries to kiss maria because hes being an asshole. she pushes him off, mentions how angelica helped her get out of her last relationship, and tells him to fuck off and work out his shit
> 
> scene 3: alex tells john hes trans, john is fine with it. feeling underwhelmed, alex also tells him about how he attempted suicide the previous year. (theres a promise he wont try again, but this is mostly a spur-of-the-moment intense conviction than a long-term thing; one person cant magically take the suicidal impulses out of someone else.) alexander also spent some time in an inpatient treatment facility, and got diagnosed with bpd.
> 
> i want to make some things clear. general criticism of this fic is welcome, especially with regards to race. but if ur not a fan of that particular detail, you can find another fic to read. i have bpd and i want to write about it. im not really up for getting shit about this headcanon tbh
> 
> im also not saying that alexander hamilton historically had bpd. that would be presumptuous and weird. however, i also wont rule it out. while obviously none of us can know for sure, i think he does have many prominent symptoms of it both historically and in the musical. if that characterization isnt to ur taste, then again, i have no problem with that. i just dont want to fight about it
> 
> on another note tho ive seen a few bipolar alex headcanons which i think are great too we can all live in a beautiful world of comorbidity. never limit urself kids
> 
> \-- Caledfwlch


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter:
> 
> some ableism discussed in the second scene; sexual abuse is mentioned in the second and fourth scenes (research scene + texting scene)
> 
> let us know if theres anything else we should tag! read safely, enjoy! <33

Alexander was rushing from English to History when he was yanked from his route into the alcove by the boys’ bathroom by none other than Aaron Burr. The other boy had sunken dark circles under his eyes, posture uncharacteristically slumped.

Alexander paused in the bouncing of his heels to frown and look him up and down. “Thought you’d never make good on your offer,” Alex quipped, brushing off his hoodie. “Back from your truancy, I see? You look like a wreck.”

“It was _two_ days.” Aaron cringed as if it cost him unbearable pain to talk to Alexander Hamilton. “I’d like to ask you a favor.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Anything for you, my dearest companion.”

Aaron sighed deeply. He whispered, eyes closed, “could I borrow a tampon?”

Alex softened. “You can have one, but don’t borrow it,” he replied, but he was already shifting his bag over his shoulder and rummaging through it. He passed the crinkly thing discreetly to him. “Here, I always keep a spare.”

Aaron slumped in relief, shoving it into his pocket and turning towards the bathroom.

“Hey, you gonna thank me?” Alex shouted after him.

Aaron pivoted. “I… thank you, Alexander. And thank you for your discretion.”

“Always know a brother when I see one.” Alex grinned cheekily at him, and Aaron offered a small, pained smile in return before turning finally into the maw of the beast.

—

John felt stupid. Nervous. Stupid for being nervous. The soft, creaky sounds of Mary practicing her violin could be heard from down the corridor. His hands felt clammy.

He had google search open— taking a deep breath, he typed the words in.

_Borderline personality disorder_

He held his breath as the information processed— which turned out to take two seconds so it really wasn't that dramatic _but_. He clicked on the first result that seemed concise; leaned in, breath suspended. 

_A serious mental illness that causes unstable moods, behavior, and relationships,_ a definiton whose gist he’d already caught onto. _Usually begins during adolescence or early adulthood._

 _Most people with BPD suffer from: problems regulating emotions and thoughts, impulsive and sometimes reckless behaviour, unstable relationships._ John scowled. Second time relationships had been brought up, one paragraph in. No wonder Alex had been nervous.

 _Research has shown that outcomes can be quite good for people with BPD_ , he read on. _Many individuals with BPD experience a decrease in their impulsive behavior in their 40’s._

He scrolled through the statistics, skimmed the diagnosis criteria. Paused at the symptoms. “Unstable or changing relationships” caught his eye; he went through the list carefully, worrying his lower lip. Fear of abandonment was listed first, constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness little further down. Mood swings. _Suicidal behaviour or self-injury_ made him pause again.

Scrolling down, the page moved onto causes. _Emotional, physical and sexual abuse._ He blinked. _Loss, neglect and bullying may also contribute._ He had to close his eyes for a second, breathe. 

_Sexual abuse._ “He’d have told me,” he reminded himself. 

_Like you told him?_ He shook his head, groaned. He wasn’t making sense. Alex had shared so much— had more than enough reason to—

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he whispered at himself, wiped at his face. He really needed to get a grip, like, yesterday. There was a bit on co-morbidities. John had to google what dysthymia means. 

Self-injury and depression had the highest percentage, but substance abuse was up there to— _Pills. It was inefficient._

The fact that he couldn’t break a mental illness’ nose was really fucking annoying. 

The article ended with a focus on brain activity and historical background of the name. John stared at the webpage for a minute, feeling slightly guilty about what he was about to google next.

_dating someone with bpd_

The first article had a picture of Jennifer Lawrence as a header and he felt bad about how quickly he pressed Return— the second one was titled “the roller coaster ride of loving someone with BPD." 

The third one offered tips, so he crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

 _While a relationship with someone who has BPD may seem nearly impossible at times, there are ways you can facilitate the relationship with that person without having to go on the rollercoaster ride with them as they oscillate between extremes in behavior and mood_ — or no, whatever.

He scrolled down the article, hands curled into fists. He remembered Alex’s eyes, how terrified he had looked, the _I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear. It’s not like that, John, I’m not dangerous_ — he had wondered why Alex would feel the need to say that, wrote it off as over-vigilance, but fucking _shit_ —

“I don’t need to protect myself,” he hissed at a particularly offending title, exited the article.

He ended up returning to Jennifer Lawrence. Felt even guiltier about ditching it earlier.

Twenty minutes later found him turning his laptop off, not much wiser. His brain replayed some key phrases— the black and white thinking, the “they get attached very quickly, give the relationship their all, but then get disappointed very quickly,” Alex saying he won’t leave him— 

He picked up his phone, opened a message.

_hey hey hey_

Alex didn’t seem to be using his phone at the moment. John hesitated for a moment before typing up a second message, fuck the anti-double texting sentiment.

_i kinda like you a lot_

_friendly reminder oowoo all that_

**oowoo?**

John laughed. He rolled onto the side and watched a new message pop up. Felt warm.

—

“You’re okay?”

“Yes.” Eliza found herself fiddling with her sleeves— shoved her hands in her pockets. “It’s not a big deal,” she reminded more herself than Angelica.

“It’s a big deal if you feel like it’s a big deal.”

Eliza leaned against the whiteboard and watched the MSU members file in. She took deep breaths as accumulated anxiety pounded in intervals through her chest, more habit than anything, she told herself. She knew she’d be fine, she knew she’d be fine, it would be fine. She was fine.

Mulligan waved to her when he came in with LaFayette. She half-smiled, waved back, clenched her other fist in her pocket. She hadn’t been sure of what to wear— to pretty? Too ugly?— and had settled on the baggiest jeans she could find and her first pair of earrings, the little light green ones she’d had to shove back into her ears each time she’d let them close up. She hadn’t been as vigilant as Angie, who had her usual hoop earrings in now, glinting as sharp and bright as her eyes.

Alexander was holding John’s hand when he came in. Eliza met John’s eyes for a moment and smiled, a new stab of guilty worry in her chest. But he smiled back, offered her a little two-finger salute, and she giggled in spite of herself.

“Eliza! Hello!”

“Hi.” She smiled. Alexander seemed almost a completely different person from the last meeting— eyes wide and sparkling, rising on his toes to bounce, posture straight. The deep circles beneath his eyes were countered by his slightly raised eyebrows, shining grin.

He leaned into John even as he put his hand on her shoulder. “How are you?”

She blinked. “I’m fine.” Fine, fine, fine.

“Excellent! What are we doing today?”

“Angelica wanted to review ace and aro stuff in time, we haven’t done that in a while.” She bit her lip. “Actually, it was my idea.”

John glanced away. “When was the last time…?”

“Freshman year, I think? Or maybe the beginning of last year. I think you were taking a nap?” She rubbed the back of her neck.

He grimaced. “Figures.”

Alex rose on his toes to plant a firm kiss on John’s cheek before turning back to Eliza, seemingly not noticing his deep blush. She relaxed a little. “Are you giving the presentation? I’ve read Angelica’s work, and of course I think it’s wonderful, but she has the talent of going quite in depth and at length too intelligently—“

Angelica smiled and shoved Alex’s shoulder. “Like I’m alone on that one.”

“I never said you were! I simply meant that Eliza is by far the best woman for the job. You make plain what you feel when you feel it.” He gripped her arm. His hand was warm. “A good quality.”

She rolled her eyes, smiled. “Well right now, I feel like you should sit down and listen to me. Nerd.”

“Nerd yourself!”

“Cur,” John muttered, making Alex yelp, then dissolve in a fit of snickers.

Angelica stayed beside her until the presentation started. “What’s the longest chapter of the Bible?”

“Psalm 119. Easy.”

“Let me live, okay, Miss Trivia Queen? Okay, who wrote the most in the Bible?”

“Jesus,” Eliza muttered, stifling a smirk.

Angelica laughed and dimmed the lights. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Eliza cleared her throat. She kept her eyes on Angelica, who scooted next to Peggy and gave her a thumbs-up. Peggy shot her an enthusiastic peace sign.

“Okay, most of you probably already know this stuff, but it can never hurt to refresh—“

LaFayette cut in, “what is this, how you say, asex? I’ve never heard of—“

Mulligan clapped his hand over their mouth. “What is, how you say, shut up.”

Eliza snorted, loosened. LaFayette had been the one to teach her the word in the first place. As she continued, she found herself glancing at John, who had pushed two desks together so that he and Alex could hold hands. Her heart warmed. She had never done that with him. John was picking at his nails, whispering to Alex, only occasionally glancing up. She couldn’t find it in herself to be offended. His leg bounced at a mile a minute.

“Aromantic—“ She coughed. “Aromanticism is a different subject.” The slide snapped to green. “Predictably, an aromantic person feels no romantic attraction. That can be interpreted differently by different people.” She breathed. “For me, it means that platonic relationships are really important to me, and it pretty much ends there. Romance isn’t something that really computes for me, and it kinda grosses me out to think of myself in any kind of romantic relationship. It’s like trying to add one and one and get three— it’s not something I can do—“

She was cut off by Mulligan’s sudden loud clapping and cheering. “We got another one! We got another one!”

LaFayette melodramatically wiped at their eyes. “Bless.”

John’s face was slack. His posture was unusually straight. Then, the corners of his mouth melted up, one by one, and his shoulders relaxed. He smiled up to his eyes, slapping his hand on his leg in place of clapping.

When the lights came back on, she was surrounded in hugs. Alexander’s arms found their way around her stomach, Mulligan embracing her from behind and messing up her hair. Peggy slow-clapped. “Proud” echoed around her. _Proud of you, proud of you, proud of you._ LaFayette kissed her forehead; she nearly burst.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

“Bullshit,” Mulligan replied.

Alexander looked elated and intrigued. “I should have predicted that.”

“Maybe,” she laughed. She felt jittery, light, warming.

“You succeeded in both of your missions!”

She rolled her eyes and, feeling daring, kissed him lightly on the cheek. He pulled away with a light gasp and a mocking “scandalous!” to cover up his very real blush.

John meandered towards her after the crowd had dispersed slightly. His eyes were down.

“So…”

“So it was never—?” He glanced up, eyes wide, then down again. “You never felt that way about me?”

She swallowed. She knew that this would come, but it still felt like a shock. She lowered her voice, making sure no one would invade their privacy. Even Alex had the tact to turn away, shove a box of tissues toward Mulligan and LaFayette.

She gripped her own arm. “I’ve always cared about you, John—”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he rushed. “I…” He squirmed. “I mean, I…”

“The kissing was pretty bad, right?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “It was— fuck.” He covered his mouth.

“It’s okay. I really did care about you, really deeply. I still… I love you. I always felt safe with you.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, I guess...” He kicked the ground, shoved his hand in his pocket. “I felt… yeah.”

She pulled him into a tight hug. She felt him hesitate slightly before putting his arms around her, too, burying his face in her hair.

“I don’t like kissing girls,” he muttered.

“I don’t like kissing boys,” she whispered back, “so we’re even.”

“Damn, I love you. Fuck.”

She tugged on his hair. “I love you, too.” She pulled back, eyes squinted at the edges. He looked warmer, softer somehow. She felt it. “Go talk to your boyfriend, nerd.”

He stuck out his tongue as he left. “Punk.”

She cocked her hip.

Angelica appeared at her side. “So,” she whispered, “now that that’s out of the way, are you gonna tell them about your diary entries about Dolley Payne?”

She swatted her arm. “Hell, no.”

—

_**John Laurens** started this group_

_**John Laurens** named this group **Ace Discourse**_

**Hercules Mulligan:** what kinda shit are you trying to start

_**John Laurens** set nickname for **Hercules Mulligan** to **shhh now**_

**shhh now:** i regret ever having met you

 **John Laurens:** yeah okay

 **John Laurens:** anyways i napped through your ace pp whenever it had happened

 **LaFayette:** we know

 **John Laurens:** and

 **John Laurens:** uhh sorry?? i slept through a lot

 **John Laurens:** I wasn't sober

 **shhh now:** we know

 **John Laurens:** this conversation is bumming me out

 **LaFayette:** are you asking to be shown the presentation because if yes all you need to is ask

 **John Laurens:** ohh im not

 **John Laurens:** should i be??

 **LaFayette:** dont know

 **John Laurens:** why do you think id be?

 **shhh now:** why did you start this group

 **shhh now:** chop chop get to your fucking point

 **John Laurens:** ok wow

 **John Laurens:** i googled asexuality now to be a GOOD FRIEND

 **LaFayette:** i am beyond grateful

 **John Laurens:** ok im beign a dick im sorry

 **John Laurens:** i just have some qs and i already asked google and it didnt answer i swear im not treating you like yahoo asks

 **shhh now:** listening

 **LaFayette:** bring forth the discourse

 **shhh now:** i hate you both

 **John Laurens:** the Not Broken thing

 **shhh now:** ye

 **John Laurens:** ???

 **John Laurens:** whats up with that

 **LaFayette:** us not being broken??

—

 **Momigan:** youre very close to making them cry and if you do it i swear to god john laurens

—

 **John Laurens:** no no laf laf !!! i know youre not shit im not

 **John Laurens:** im so bad at this crap i didnt mean to imply

 **John Laurens:** its about 

**John Laurens:** eeek 

**shhh now:** chop chop

 **John Laurens:** the sex thing?

 **John Laurens:** fuck

 **LaFayette:** yes fuck is a sex thing generally considered

 **John Laurens:** let me live

 **John Laurens:** trauma

 **John Laurens:** is that what its getting at?

 **LaFayette:** ohhh

 **shhh now:** is that an ohhh of understanding

 **shhh now:** bc i understand jack shit

 **LaFayette:** he wants to know the ties between sexual abuse and asexuality

 **shhh now:** OHHH

 **LaFayette:** am I right?

 **John Laurens:** yeah lmao

 **John Laurens:** bc like it says it doesnt need to be the case and i get that

 **John Laurens:** thank god

 **John Laurens:** but can it be? or is that an iffy subject

 **shhh now:** sexual abuse in general is an iffy subject

 **John Laurens:** wow really??? i learn something new everyday??

 **LaFayette:** what are you asking, John

 **John Laurens:** ughh

 **John Laurens:** you know what nvm

_**John Laurens** left the group_

**shhh now:** ok what the fuck

—

 **Momigan:** ???

 **Johnnyboy:** did i make them cry??

 **Momigan:** youre making me cry OUT OF FRUSTRATION

 **Johnnyboy:** jesus take the capslock herc chill out

 **Momigan:** seriously??

 **Johnnyboy:** what!!

 **Momigan:** that was so fucking weird

 **Momigan:** why are you acting like that one straight friend in the groupchat

 **Momigan:** we dont have straight friends for a reason

 **Johnnyboy:** delightful

 **Johnnyboy:** nvm really

 **Momigan:** John.

 **Johnnyboy:** drop ittttt

—

James cupped Tom’s face, slid a thumb down his jaw.

The latter smiled, breathing a little shaky. “Hey.” Tom’s cheeks were flushed, eyes cast downwards. He bumped his forehead against James’.

“Hey right back at you,” James laughed, pressed a quick kiss to the top of Thomas’ head. 

Weak March sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the empty back classroom, a safe cocoon. Both of James’ parents were home; he could stay out, not worry about his little siblings. All classes were dismissed almost half an hour ago, but James and Thomas stayed back in the library (as they often did) to sneak into an abandoned classroom and kiss a little (which they did not do nearly as often as James would like), which was how he ended up here, sat on the teacher’s desk, feet dangling off the edge, both arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s neck. He knew it was a little risky, but it smelled good here, he liked how slow he could kiss him, wrap his legs around Thomas and keep him there if he wanted: warm, comforting. He didn’t have to worry about anything now.

It was nice.

“You went a little overboard in Debate today.” He whispered, rubbing small circles into Thomas’ back. The latter let out a little whine, burrowed his face closer against James’ collarbone. “You know I’m right.”

“He had it coming.”

James rolled his eyes, glossed over the no-name name drop. Hamilton had been energetic, practically on fire, making so many points and so quickly that he admitted, it would be hard to get a word in edge-wise. “You need to stop pushing the Schuylers’ patience. Angelica likes him, you know.”

“Not scared of feral queer-hag.”

James halted his petting. Thomas glanced up at him, eyes round and warm. “Thomas.”

His boyfriend pouted.

James rolled his eyes. “You’re being awfully hypo—“

“Okay, all right, I’m sorry,” Tom sighed, slumping dramatically.

Madison had to laugh, forever unable to stay mad at him for too long. “You are impossible.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you are.”

“Okay, we are not doing this.”

James kissed him in place of a reply, straight on the lips, one hand lightly holding onto the silky collar of his shirt. He could feel him grin, kiss back with more fervor. Soon enough, both his arms were thrown around Jefferson’s significantly wider shoulders, fingers buried in the thick curls, one of Tom’s hands resting on the small of his back, the other splayed against his cheek. His whole body felt fluttery, his brain blissfully blank. 

Thomas broke the kiss first, breathing heavy, face flushed dark. “I appreciate you so much,” he whispered. James beamed back at him, leaned in to rub their noses together. The world was full of color. Tom laughed.

“God, you’re gay.” James kissed him again— Jefferson made a small surprised sound before grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling them closer together.

“We’re not having sex,” James warned, hands still buried in Thomas’ hair.

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of Thomas’ jaw; he made a high-pitched whine, kissed him again. James pushed back the fit of giggles, positively elated. 

“Holy Shit! Holy shit!” 

James felt himself get pushed away, spun around to face the sound— the doors they’d so carefully blocked with a strategically placed chair (the school was supposed to be empty, why was the school not empty?) were wide open, an array of students staring back at them. James felt himself blank out. Thomas was, apparently, trying to hide his entire six-foot-four frame by pressing himself against Madison’s side.

“Are they still kissing— holy shit they were kissing— oh shit!” Mulligan was still shouting, both hands pressed against his face to, what, shield his vision? Grant them some privacy? LaFayette stood next to him, one eyebrow raised. Eliza Schuyler had the decency to turn to face the wall— Peggy was clinging onto her arm, eyes blown wide, jaw slack open. Both Hamilton and Laurens were there, too, of course— John avoiding his eyes, Alex straight up gawking.

Maria Reynolds, face blank, began to clap. Peggy joined in.

“Make them go away, James, make them go away,” Thomas whispered, still cowering. Madison still couldn’t remember how to move.

Angelica Schuyler looked like she’d been struck. “Are you two fucking kidding?”

“I think they’re just fucking,” Maria supplied, threw a wink in his direction. Madison looked away, horrified. 

“Every member of this club risks their personal safety trying to protect—and you— you two—“ She paused for breath, eyes on fire. “All the shit you give us! Give me! And—“ She made a move to storm over. John grabbed her arm, pulled her back. “Jefferson!”

James hadn’t seen her this mad since they were fifteen. His face burned. For once, he felt blessed that it didn’t show. He felt suspended, eerily calm but for a prickle in his throat.

“Angie—“ Eliza placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. It didn’t seem to do much help.

“Thomas Jefferson, get the fuck over here!”

“Angelica, please—“

“This is the best day of my life,” Hercules stage-whispered. Jefferson sat up, still avoiding anyone’s eyes.

“Jefferson!”

“Angelica,” Thomas replied. His entire face was ten shades darker than normal. Madison vaguely debated the pros and cons of hiding under the desk.

Some heavy breathing from Angelica’s side. Maria took hold of her arm, smiled. 

“What the fuck?”

A beat. Jefferson shrugged. Hercules burst out laughing.

“Absolutely called it.” LaFayette was still smiling. “Did I not call it?”

“You did,” Hercules confirmed, throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Aw, aw, this is great.”

“Were you ever going to tell anyone?” Angelica demanded.

Thomas scowled. “Wow, wasn’t aware I need to make a report to the bull dyke of the—“

Maria suddenly tensed, one foot taking a step forward. Jefferson shut his mouth immediately. “Wanna say that one more time?” she whispered.

James tugged at Jefferson’s hand, shook his head for both of them. “He is sorry,” he managed to get out. Maria shot him a quick stare, said nothing.

“God, Madison.” Angelica’s eyes moved between the two of them. “You deserve better.”

James looked at Thomas. He was saying nothing, staring at the ground.

“Uh, so.” James fiddled. “Why are you here?”

“MSU meeting,” Angelica replied, one eyebrow arched, eyes boring into him. “Completely authorized, unlike—“

James nodded.

“You can join us!” Peggy offered.

Thomas blanched. “We need to go,” he said, yet made no move for the exit. “If you—“

“No one here will out you, Thomas,” Angelica interrupted. “Safe space, remember?”

Jefferson’s eyes focused on Alexander. “What about him?”

James sighed.

Alexander stood up straighter. John Laurens sighed too. “Nothing to worry about, Thomas.” Hamilton’s tone was deliberate, laced with contempt. “Unlike some, I do support my community.”

A beat.

“Well ain’t that just dandy,” Thomas spat out. Alexander’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He tugged at Madison’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

He kept his eyes downcast as they exited, but James could still feel them staring. It wasn’t until they were two stairways down that he found himself able to breathe again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: references to past sexual abuse in scene 4

**Johnnyboy:** do you think they ever fucked on that desk

**Momigan:** what

**Momigan:** OH

**Momigan:** shiiit they totally did

—

**Mari:** DID JEFFERSON AND LIL JEMMY FUCK ON THE DESK

**ur angle:** What.

**Kat Von D Outlaw:** i call yes

**LaFfy Saffy:** i call i wish to forget

**Johnnyboy:** nooo

**Mari:** THEY DID DIDNT THEY

**Mari:** does anyone have madisons number i wanna text him

**ur angle:** First off all, he won't reply.

**ur angle:** Second of all, Jefferson has an open facebook profile

**Johnnyboy:** and he's going to reply??

**ur angle:** No but it'll be hilarious

**Mari:** holy shit marry me for tax benefits

**LaFfy Saffy:** :( i was offering european citizenship

**Mari:** fuck

**ur angle:** thats okay i wouldve said no

**Kat Von D Outlaw:** im the biggest benefit she's ever gonna get

**ur angle:** mmm reference the Invincibles to me

**Kat Von D outlaw:** <3

**Mari:** cease the lesbians i found him

**Mari:** HE SAW

**Mari:** SEEN

**Mari:** THATS A YES RIGHT

**Johnnyboy:** D:

**Kat Von D Outlaw:** they beat us to it :(

**Peggy Schoo:** EW EW EW EWEWEWEW

**ur angle:** ;D

**Peggy Schoo:** ur bluffing

**ur angle:** You're absolutely right they didn't beat us to it

**Peggy Schoo:** I HATE THIS FAMILY

**doc marthens:** i leave for a DAY and 500+ messages what the FUCK

**doc marthens:** did something happen?

**Peggy Schoo:** HAHAHHAH

**Mari:** BOY

—

**Johnnyboy:** ok but real talk that's so unhygienic

**Momigan:** you keep making this a private chat is there something you need to tell me

**Johnnyboy:** okay chesus chill out i was just making conversation

**Momigan:** okayyyyyyy

**Johhnyboy:** why do people have sex mulligan

**Momigan:** ha

**Momigan:** im really the wrong person to ask that question

**Johnnyboy:** i just dont get the appeal

**Momigan:** are we talking sex in general or public sex?

**Johnnyboy:** ? what

**Momigan:** please reread this conversation and call me back when youre making sense

**Johnnyboy:** shit mom thats harsh

**Momigan:** i love you too kidney stone

**Momigan:** but just for general clarity

**Momigan:** i dont get the appeal either

**Momigan:** & neither does laf

**Momigan:** *double pistols*

—

“This really isn’t necessary, you know.”

“Oh, like hell it’s not,” Angelica insisted, rifling through one of her cardboard boxes. “Here’s pamphlet I found at Planned Parenthood, and oh! Here’s _Am I Blue?_ , which mostly isn’t great writing honestly, but you should still read it. Ahh, and here are some condoms in case you ever end up actually doing the deed.” She shoved the lot into James’ hands. “I won’t lie, some of the gang is cracking jokes, but— really, it’ll be okay. I know it’s not much but… it’s essential GSA stuff.” She sat next to him and smiled hopefully. A layer of guilt still clung to her after the outburst— she wouldn’t think of it. James, at least, she could count on.

He frowned at his hands, set the gifts aside. He looked awkward, quiet and retreated on her bed.

Angelica was starting to get nervous. She nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, c’mon. You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s just…” James flicked the box of condoms. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, you know that Tom and I have been fucking for like, a year now, right?”

Angelica’s neck twitched. “What? Wait, you actually—?!”

James laughed nervously. “It’s kind of funny, don’t you think?”

“No, it isn’t funny!” She turned to face him, brows furrowed. “You’re meaning to tell me you’ve been having unprotected, underage sex for a _year_ and you never thought to tell me?”

James shrugged and slowly worried at one of his nails with his teeth. “Okay, I was exaggerating. We don’t do, like, we just do handjobs and blowjobs and stuff like that, it’s not a big deal.”

“You still need to be safe!” Angelica felt her voice getting shrill and tried to lower it. “Jesus, James. He’s such scum.”

“It isn’t _like_ that,” James snapped. “He’s not ‘scum.’ Don’t call him that.”

“Okay, but he shouldn’t have—“

“Angelica!” he interrupted. “I was the one who brought it up in the first place! I was the one who….” He rubbed his eyes, shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m not used to talking about this, okay? Just don’t….”

She sighed. “James, you know I’m not really mad. I just want you to be safe. And that it’s really what you want.”

“Damn.” He lifted his head to glare at her ceiling. His throat bobbed like a boat on the ocean. “It’s not what I want. You know that.”

“Then don’t let—“

“You think I _want_ him to suck me off in a fucking bathroom stall and make him keep quiet about it? You think I _want_ it confined to long weekends and broom closets and the fucking library? I never wanted all this, all this drama, look. You haven’t seen how he _gets_ , Angie. Shit.” His voice was heartbreakingly soft. He blinked rapidly, and Angelica suddenly realized he was stifling tears. “You know, I tried to… I tried to at school once last year because I didn’t know what to do and he said no because he didn’t want the first time to be ‘like that.’”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“I am well aware that this isn’t how it’s supposed to work, but we can’t all be like you and Maria, okay?”

Angelica’s chest went hot at that. “Hey! Maria and I have had our fair share of hardships, so don’t even go there.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” James muttered. He scowled and swiped his eyes with the back of his arm. “It’s just…. He’s been through too much, and— my parents would kill me if they found out that w— that I’m gay. I didn’t want to do nothing. You don’t get to shit on that, no matter how many Planned Parenthood brochures you’ve read.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she wrapped him in a hug.

He was stiff, but patted her arm rigidly. “Sorry. That was out of turn.”

“Don’t apologize, James,” she murmured. “Hey, I’m sorry. This is…” She kept a hand on his arm when she pulled back. She clenched her teeth, suddenly fighting back tears. She wanted Maria. She wanted Eliza. “Look, I know I have this image, and it helps, sometimes, but I…” She took a deep breath. “I was fighting so much because I had to protect her. And they weren’t listening to her, and he kept hurting her. And it wasn’t enough.” The danger of tears dissipated, her heart firm. “I had to take it up to them. But now I’m just a bitch and she’s just a slut, and I just, I had to help.” She ran a hand through her hair, paradoxically reassuring but endangering in its ruby-tipped shortness. “Sorry, this is about you. This isn’t about me, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just can’t believe it’s happening again.” She massaged her temples. _Happening right under my nose and I couldn’t stop it no matter how clever I was no matter how kind no matter how much I loved—_

“Angie, it was my choice. I promise. Sometimes I think it’s the thing I least regret.” He laughed lightly. “Sorry, that was probably insensitive.”

“I just don’t trust him.”

“I know.” He drummed his fingers. “But I do. And if he cares about a mess he made, he’ll clean it up.”

“You think he cares about this.”

“I know he does. And if he doesn’t shape up, I can take him out, but he will. We’ve… been alone long enough.”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “So you’re doing this for real, huh?” 

He studied his nails again. “I love him, Angelica.”

For some reason, it shocked her. She knew it, subliminally; she’d always known. But it was different to hear him say it out loud and without a twinge of shame. And she knew that things like this happened, but it still somehow left her with a new layer of dark residue over her eyes: a mixture of outrage and guilt, fear and hopelessness.

“I can’t spend my life without him,” James murmured, still avoiding her eyes. “I just can’t.”

She swallowed and moved from his arm to his hand, squeezing it. “Look, I….” She sighed. “I’m just worried for you. I wish I could have helped.” The words weren’t strong enough. They resonated in every bone of her body, made her ache.

He finally looked at her, squeezed her hand. “You are now.”

She laughed to quell the bitterness stinging her eyes and pulled him into a tight hug. “I _knew_ you were too good for the straights to have you,” she muttered, rubbing a fist in his hair.

“Well, I had to keep some level of dignity.”

—

Alex was so warm John thought he was going to overheat. Their knees were barely touching, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. John’s arms were sweaty, throat dry. The twisting sensation in his stomach wasn’t ebbing away. His brain wouldn’t shut up. 

They were watching Agent Carter; John's laptop was balanced on an improvised stand of multiple textbooks and one princess lunchbox stolen from Mary's room. His family was away for the weekend, Mulligan and LaFayette busy with the flimsiest excuse John ever heard someone bother with- Alex was sleeping over. Alex, who was burning John up with his mere presence— Alex, his boyfriend—

Boyfriend. He smiled, pressed a bit closer to the other boy. He had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend, and that boyfriend was Alexander Hamilton— John didn't think he'd ever get over that, holy shit, he had hit some sort of an intergalactic jackpot and his mind would never finish processing it.

Something funny happened on the show— Alex snorted, rolled his eyes. John felt his chest swell up with affection.

He was so damn lucky.

Alex’s thigh brushed against his again, more decidedly this time. John felt his heart stop.

“Hey, want a drink?”

Alex looked up. John bit his lip.

“Like, an alcoholic sort.”

“No,” Alex answered, prompt and certain. John blinked, nodded. “But if you wish to imbibe...”

He knew he shouldn’t. “Cool— be right back.” 

Alex looked confused. John couldn’t really blame him. 

There was a bottle of brandy— he knew it’d taste disgusting, so he just poured a really large shot glass and pinched his nose. The liquid was bitter. He poured another shot. 

He was nervous— reasonably enough. He’d seen Angelica down a shot before asking Maria to dance with her the first time. LaFayette— all right, maybe LaFayette didn’t need liquid courage, but.

He downed another shot. There was a pool of warmth settling in his stomach. The weird feeling from before now felt more like sheer excitement. He drank another shot.

He probably needed to get back to Alex, quick. Mixing some brandy and Pepsi, he climbed up the stairs. 

Alex was sleeping over. Alex was his boyfriend— boyfriend!— and he was sleeping over and one did not need to read between the lines to catch the message.

John paused at the doorway, took a long drink. A distant, silenced part of his mind wondered what the hell was wrong with him. 

It was okay to be nervous. He had never— well, that wasn’t entirely true, but— he took another drink, shook his head. He really, really needed to get back.

Alex was mid-standing up when John entered, shoulders tense. His head flew up to face him.

“Hey—“

“Do you want me to drink with you?” Alex burst out, eyes so large and focused John nearly lost his train of thought. “If you want me to drink with you, I will. I’m sorry.”

“What—“ 

“I am probably being a bore. I apologize. I’ll fix—“

“Yo,” John cut him off. Alex’s snapped his mouth shut, looked startled. John made his voice softer. “Yo.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He set the glass down, away— it was nearly empty, he realized. 

“Hey, let’s finish that episode.”

Alex nodded. “Sorry.”

John felt warm. Alex looked upset.

“Hey.” He cupped both his cheeks— Alex looked up, slightly surprised. “I like you a lot.”

“You don’t need to say that just because—“

John kissed him. Alex tensed, very briefly, before sighing into the contact.

“I’m not saying it ‘just because’.” John slurred, pressed a quick kiss to the bridge of Alex’ nose. “You’re kinda great.”

Alex’ cheeks were flushed three shades darker. John felt like high-fiving himself.  
He could do this. 

“Want to finish the episode?” Alex asked, still so close. John leaned in, slid one leg between both of Alex’s. Buried his face in his shoulder, breathed in.

“Later.”

—

John smelled like liquor.

That was all Alex could process as John’s mouth touched his, warm and giving. His eyes blinked, closed. Still unsure, tenseness in his shoulders, he reached up with one hand, buried it in John’s curls.

John was breathing hard and uneven, and he smelled like liquor. One of his hands skidded down Alex’s torso, clutched his hoodie in a tight fist. Alex strained his neck, suddenly scared of losing contact, parting his lips in case that was what he wanted.

John quickly licked into his mouth, like a flame, fleeting and hot and _he smelled like liquor._ One of his strong hands gingerly found the flat of Alex’s inner thigh, slid up….

He felt his mind blank for a second in an elated thrill— then pulled back. Laughed awkwardly, wiped his mouth. “You’re a little drunk, don’t you think?”

John’s eyes were still closed. He muttered, “who cares?” His hand moved no further up, but rubbed circles on Alex’s leg, not seeming to settle.

Alex gulped, kissed John’s cheek. His toes curled with how badly he wanted to pull him close, kiss his neck, feel loved and excited. But the whirlwind shut down when he smelled it again: brash, sickening. “Not tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“But…” John’s eyes heavily opened, squinting. “Don’t you wanna?”

“Well—“ His face went hot. “Of course I want to. But I want to do it sober, I don’t want it like this.”

John’s expression changed at that; his voice quieted with a crack. “Sober?”

“John—“

He was cut off when John’s mouth met his again. He nipped him, pushed him away. “Hey. Stop, I mean it.”

“But I thought you’d want…”

“Sober.”

“But I don’t _wanna_ do it sober, I gotta do it now,” John slurred, something desperate pushing through his tone.

A hot dollop of fear lay on Alex’s tongue. He brushed a hand over John’s flushed forehead. “You’re really drunk, John, I—“ _Shit, it was so soon._ “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

John’s eyes changed, suddenly sharp and burning. He muttered, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

Alex’s felt like he’d swallowed an ice cube. “What?”

John, eyes soft again, shoved his face into a pillow. Muffled: “ugh. Forget I said that.”

“No, no, John, wh—“ Alex felt like he was watching TV, watching his own hands flutter helplessly at John’s shoulder— watching him twitch— “what do you mean? I’ll kill anyone if they did something to you. I’ll kill them.”

“Jesus, just shut up.”

Alex curled up his fingers. His hands drew in. He’d displeased him.

“I’m just, like you said, I’m just drunk and ‘m bein’ dramatic. Didn’t mean anything.”

“John, if there’s… if there’s something you’re not telling me—“

“There’s nothing I ain’t tellin’ you,” he snapped. His voice softened when he glanced at Alex’s eyes. His knees shifted up. “It didn’t mean anything, all right? Can we please just go to sleep?”

Alex wrung his hands eyebrows sore with worry. “Okay,” he finally conceded. John turned away from him. “Should I… turn off the light?”

“Do whatever you want.”

As it turned out, Alex didn’t turn off the light. He pulled the blanket over himself and bit his tongue to stop himself from touching him or saying something untoward, closing his eyes in concentrated faked sleep while his mind tumbled over itself in worry, protectiveness, bitter and jittery anger— what the fuck, _what the fuck_ —

An hour in, John stumbled silently out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall. Alex rushed to the bedroom door, shivered as he listened to John throw up again and again, cough and run the sink. Alex gripped his leg and felt a sudden rush of guilt at the memory of Maria’s smudged lipstick.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussion of cancer in the second scene!! sorry about that

John woke up with a sour taste in his mouth. There was a pulsing sensation in the back of his skull, a headache yet to fully form.

He cracked an eye open. There was someone watching him.

He rolled over, groaned. The sleep had not yet fully dissipated. “Alex?”

“John.” 

There was a hint of something _off_ — John scowled, looked up. Alex was sat at the corner of the bed, as if afraid he’d be infringing— the bags under his eyes heavier than usual. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning?” He tried to sit up, bit back the wave of dizziness. He wracked his brain for concrete memories of the last night, tried to piece it together—

_Oh._

He slumped back against the pillows, rolled away. Not a sound from Alex. He rolled back around. “Hey.”

Alex swallowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he offered a smile. Alex returned it, eyes still— worried? John wasn’t sure. “Are you sure?”

 _Fuck._ He laughed, forced a casual grin. “I mean, my body isn’t too happy with me but other than that.” He shrugged. “What time is it?”

“Half past ten.” Alex was fully dressed, cradling his phone in his arms. “I am to leave in twenty minutes.”

“Huh,” John sat up again. “That’s… soonish.”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay, I change my mind.”

Alex scowled. “John—”

“No, really, there’s nothing to talk about, okay?” He knew his words were coming out too fast, too panicked, tried to laugh through it. “Let's, I don’t know, watch some vines until you need to go.”

“John.”

He stopped. Alex’s eyes looked glassy.

_Fuck._

“Hey.” He leaned in, reached out for his arm. Alex let him take it, squeezed back. “I’m sorry?”

Alex shook his head. “You needn’t apologize, John.”

“Okay.”

“But we need to talk about—”

“Hahaha, _fuck no_ —”

“ _Your drinking_.” Alex raised his voice, lowered it almost immediately. “I wouldn’t— I’m not going to— “

John couldn’t reply.

Alex squeezed his hand again. “I will not make you do _anything_.” He emphasized the words in a way John knew he’d have to learn to expect— eyes so pitying John wanted to scream. “But the other things. The way you act—”

“What about the way I act.”

Alex’ eyes fixated on him— stern, little bit annoyed— so much better than pity, thank jesus. “You know fully well what you’re doing wrong.”

John laughed. “Wrong?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“No, not really,” John sat up, adrenaline high. “I’ve been drinking since the day you met me— I was, ha, drinking on the day you met me, actually—”

Alex’s face fell.

“So I really don’t know what you expected to happen.” 

“You were drunk when we met?”

John rolled his eyes, leaned back.

“It was morning!”

“Wow, observant.” He made a move to get up. “I’m way too tired to have this conversation.”

“Why would you do that? You, of all people—”

“Why the fuck not?” He could just. Spend the twenty minutes in the bathroom. “It’s a free country.”

“John, please.”

He fought the urge to flip him off. “Jesus, Alex—”

Alex grabbed his arm, pulled him back. John fixed him with a stare— he didn’t budge.

“You’re not leaving until we’ve talked this through.”

“Is that so?” he snapped. “What happened with the not-making-me-do-anything?”

Alex let go off his hand immediately. John regretted ever bringing it up.

“God, sorry.” He sat down, groaned. “It’s not— is that going to be a problem?”

Alex’ look was pure disbelief. “Yes!”

“Alex—”

“You’re killing yourself, John!” Alex insisted. “You’re— wasting yourself away, and you’re much too— you’re going to die, and you don’t even—”

“Wait, for real?” John interrupted. “ _You’re_ telling me I’m killing—”

The words died on his tongue— _wow, the way to fucking go_ — Alex’s face fell again.

“I guess,” he said bitterly, “you raise a good point.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“At least I don’t poison myself with opiates—”

“Wow, a gold star for you.”

“I’m not the only one worried for you, Eliza told me—”

“I don’t need you parenting me—”

“You obviously do—”

The phone in Alex’s lap started vibrating. Both froze in their tracks, eyed the device.  
Alex picked up, alert. John slumped back.

“Yes, thank you, I’ll be right down.” He eyed John. His face was flushed. “I need to go.”

“Got that.”

“This isn’t—”

“Just, jesus, go.” 

A beat. Alex stood up. John swore.

“Wait.” He grabbed his arm. Alex looked like he was barely holding words in. “Can I kiss you?”

Another beat. “What?”

John smiled. “You heard me.”

“Are you trying to shut me up with a kiss?” Alex frowned. “That’s an unfortunate TV trope to emulate.”

“Dude, I know I couldn’t possibly shut you up.” He grinned. “Kiss, yes-no, Wash is waiting.”

He got a quick kiss planted right off-center, a squeeze of the hand. He could feel Alex’s shoulders melt, a slight exhale of breath.

“I’ll text you,” Alex warned, softer now.

John laughed. “I’ll mute my phone.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll turn off the internet.”

“I’ll use the post.”

The phone rang again. John laughed as Alex mumbled excuses into the phone, shooting glares in his direction.

—

_how are you feeling?_

John Adams was trying to get Thomas to brainstorm with him for a paper. Abigail had joined them for the day, almost more persistent. Thomas was eating a cheese stick pointedly slowly, avoiding both their eyes. Aaron twitched at the buzz of his phone.

**pretty shitty thats usually how chemo feels**

_understood._

- _i could send you a care package_

**ily but id murder u**

_im sending a whole bag of clementines right now as we speak_

**fuuuck you**

- ** <3**

“Are you listening to me, Tom?” John turned to Abigail. “He’s not listening to me.”

“I’m listenin’. You’re saying the free market would—“ He waved his hand, chewing with his mouth open. “I dunno, the free market isn’t enough to compensate for a recession or some trash like that. Keynesian.”

“I’m actually talking about the Fed—“

“Oh, _fuck_ that.”

“Thomas!”

_< 3_

- _anything i can do to make you feel better?_

**u already are**

- **idk tell me a joke or sth**

- **sext me**

_i knock on your door_

**NO**

_its me goku_

**i hope i die soon**

Aaron’s smile fell empty in his throat.

“James, he isn’t _listening._ ”

Madison had already dissected his turkey sandwich, and was now in the process of cutting his lettuce into bite-sized pieces with metal silverware. “That is unfortunate.”

Abigail laughed, patting her dupatta to keep her hair in place. “I assume you’d like the few remaining small farms to lose what stock they have in domestic—“

“I love you, Abby, but bring up small farms again and you die.”

“Hey!” John started.

_when do you think youll be done_

**idk**

- **i dont wanna say im sure of shit when im not**

_i know_

**idek whether theyre gonna have me go thru it again or what but im beat**

_don’t press yourself_

“If you wanna talk about the Fed, go talk to Hamilton or something. He looks like a Democrat.”

“Ugh, never.”

**u kno how the sign for zodiac cancer is like a 69**

_yes because jefferson wouldn’t shut up about it through all of freshman year_

**does this make me like**

- **extra good at oral or sth if i survive**

_we shall just have to see_

**im divorcing u goku**

_:(_

**ugh men**

Adams and Jefferson were still bickering when the bell rang. Madison’s eyes remained fixed as he cleared his place. Aaron couldn’t bring himself to care, but shot a semi-apologetic glance to Abigail, who just smiled, shrugged, and stole a neglected French fry from her boyfriend’s tray.

_i have to go but ill talk to you asap_

- _if you need anything ___

__**i know <3** _ _

__- **idk when well talk again cause i need some beauty sleep**_ _

__- **and so do u**_ _

_haha_

__**hey <3** _ _

__- **ill talk to you soon**_ _

_soon_

__- _ <3__ _

—

Alexander was surprised to find none other than James Madison sitting quietly in the back of the MSU room reading a book when he entered alongside Angelica. “Look who bothered to show up,” he sneered, but Angelica lightly punched his arm. He rubbed it sorely.

“Hi, James.” She waved as the others filed in. “Glad to see you here.”

He smiled weakly back.

John wasn’t far behind him, hands shoved in his pockets. Alex was about to explode from the lack of physical contact— probably intentional, maybe punishment, definitely what he deserved— “Yo, is that Madison?”

“The one and only,” Alex replied. “We’ll see how this pans out.”

John nodded, lips pressed in a line.

The meeting was shockingly civil, almost disappointingly so. Alex didn’t have to feel entirely hollow, as Eliza opted to sit on his right side, John on his left.

“The drama never ceases,” Eliza whispered to him, widening her eyes. “James was over at our place over the weekend, I felt like a bomb was about to go off or something.”

Alex frowned, but John beat him to it. “Was he mean to you?”

“No, just quiet.” She shook her head. “He mostly talks to Angie. I swear, our house is slowly morphing into a therapist’s office.”

Alex had to force his smile to stay in place. She and Angie were much more pleasant than any therapist he’d ever known— he dropped the train of thought. “He seems like a fascinating person,” he said instead. “I’d actually be interested in knowing his thoughts, though he seems to suffer from similar problems as Aaron B—“

Eliza giggled and bumped his knee with hers. He felt his heart go warm. She had very soft features. It was nearly impossible to remember that he’d once hated her.

A video was put on, and halfway through, Alex felt a tap on his outstretched, empty left hand, and John’s fingers slowly intertwined with his. His shoulders went limp and hot with relief. _This is bad._

“You sure you don’t want this info?”

“It’s nonbinary 101,” Alex muttered in reply. “You know she’s just showing it so Madison won’t shoot Peggy any untoward shit.”

“Okay, true.”

Alex scanned over John’s face for what felt like the thousandth time, he needed to _cut it out_ — his eyes seemed clear. But he could never be sure. He could never be sure, that was too irresponsible, and John deserved far better than that. An image flashed in his mind of John crumpled on the floor, suddenly vomiting, vomiting blood, eyes vacant, shards coming out— he couldn’t hold it. He bit one of his knuckles absentmindedly and tightened his grip on John’s hand. Savored the illusion of control.

The room dissolved into a bright, uneasy lull after the video. Angelica’s eyes were even brighter than usual, like light rays bouncing around the room. Glancing back several times, Alex could see that the intruder was reading again.

Peggy started doing xyr nails, as xe often did when xe couldn’t settle, xyr doc martens propped up on the desk.

Angelica murmured something to xem.

“Nope, no luck today, sis,” Peggy pouted. “Blue ain’t my color, and I’m nearly out of all the rest. I’m a pure Summer.”

“It’d look good on Madison, though,” Hercules mused. Lafayette mussed his hair a little forcefully.

Alexander’s eyes darted back to James. His expression was concealed, pondering.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Peggy breathed. “Maddie, get over here!”

Maddie (Maddie? Since when was he “Maddie?”) shuffled over to where Peggy sat, the latter swiftly kicking xyr boots off the desk and leaning forward. “You’re cool with this?”

Madison shrugged. “Why not?” he said in his subtle rumble.

Alex watched, mesmerized, as Peggy coated each of James’ fingernails with pastel blue.

When xe finished, he held up his hand to the light. His slender, dark umber fingers waggled. The color really was perfect for him.

He eventually murmured, “It’s nice. Thank you, Peggy.”

Peggy practically bounced in xyr seat.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” John whispered.

Alex breathed a laugh, too startled to worry. He leaned over to whisper in John’s ear. “Did he actually… are they actually blue?”

“Yep.”

Alex’s smile widened into an enormous grin.

Madison caught his eye, turned his dark, unreadable stare on him. “Are you surprised that I’m a Spring, Alexander?”

“No, I’m just…“ He was happy. He was, for some reason, delighted by it, though he couldn’t fully explain why. Madison was like him. They had a more equal standing. He could _work_ with this. “You can’t write with nail polish drying,” he said instead. “I should get ahead— actually!” He whirled to face Eliza, who had her eyebrows raised. “Eliza, get me a pencil and paper right now, I’m going to be economical.” At vague sounds of protest, he said, “nope! No exceptions, if Madison can’t write, I will.”

“Oh, is it a rivalry you want?”

“Don’t I get enough of that with your boyfriend?” Alex smirked. He was already feeling good.

James hid his mouth with the backs of his fingers. “I suppose you do.”

—

_yo yo alex_

_\- i have sth to say im gonna ask you to not reply for a while_

_\- soo_

_\- idk this might be sort of obvious haha_

_\- i was rly vague and all so idk how much you could actually tell_

_\- you know what nvm_

_\- no no this is important_

_\- ok youre either not near your phone or actually took my request seriously which i really didnt expect_

John paused, sweaty fingers clinging to the phone.

Like a band-aid. 

_\- sex is a No_

_\- thats what im getting at_

_\- i shouldve disclosed this earlier but i dont think i hahaha i dont think i realized_

_\- cause you want sober sex and i really cant sober sex_

_\- we can drunk sex_

_\- but let me get drunk before asking bc_

_\- wow seeing these written out really puts it in a different perspective nevermind_

_\- uh_

_\- ok idk text me back when you see these_

_\- wait one last thing_

_\- you can break up with me you know that??_

_\- i wont blame you or be angry or whatever you have the right_

_\- not gonna send laf after you or anything Tho can you imagine_

_\- laf wouldnt even come after you they know its like_

_\- hahah this is so fucking weird_

_\- how do i delete every message i ever send @ yahoo_

_\- ANYWAYS_

_\- its ok if youre not down with going sexless i just need to know now_

_\- sorry for not saying it earlier guess i thought_

_\- guess i didnt think ha_

_\- ok this is officially the longest you didnt reply is everything okay??_

**Yes! Yes, everything is okay! I am so sorry.**

John let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heartbeat was going hundred miles a second and was not slowing down. 

**I do not have a problem with not engaging in that sort of activity.**

**\- I really do not. I understand your fears, though.**

**\- Thank you for telling me. I can imagine it wasn’t easy.**

**\- Not that you have anything to be ashamed of! There’s nothing wrong with being asexual.**

_guess thats what i am haa_

_\- i thought i was straight?? I started this year thinking im straight when did all of this happen ??_

**Well I started this year thinking you’re straight so I guess you fooled us both.**

_hahaha_

_\- think were the only ones_

_\- youre really ok with it?? I swear i wont be mad_

**Certain. <3 **

**\- Do I need to send you another essay?**

_ <333333 i love it when you talk dirty _

_\- FUCK is this the ace sexting_

_\- you jerk off an essay i cry in a bathroom stall_

**Did you cry in a bathroom stall?**

_uh_

_\- did you jerk off writing an essay_

**Do you want a honest reply?**

_yeeeeee ill just assume youre joking_

**You do that.**

_…_

_\- ok i gotta know_

**No, I did not jerk off writing that essay, John.**

**\- Honestly?!**

_i dont know ok???? You look the type_

**I am offended.**

_Jefferson probably does_

**Are you comparing me to Jefferson.**

_shhhh we’ll continue this convo in a sec_

__

 

 **Johnnyboy:** jeff &mads write essays as sexy roleplay y/n

 **doc marthens:** i can see alex suggesting that actually

 **Johnnyboy:** so can i but thats not the point

 **LaFfy Saffy:** eye emoji

 **Johnnyboy:** did you just type out eye emoji

 **LaFfy Saffy:** shrug emoji

 **Peggy Schoo:** alexander hamilton comes in his pants every time he writes an essay

 **doc marthens:** pegs

 **Peggy Schoo:** :( too much?

 **Johnnyboy:** well kinda ??

 **doc marthens:** yeah 

**doc marthens:** its not funny if its true :(

 **Johnnyboy:** nvm i hate you all


	15. Chapter 15

James took Tom’s hand firmly in his own and held it there. He knew he had to because Thomas never would. Because he needed him to know that he wasn’t afraid of anyone seeing. 

That was the odd thing: that he was so scared. At least, he judged he was, by his own body. He’d worn a thick, baggy, black sweater to hide the tremors in his chest, arms. He couldn’t quite get his breathing to even out, and every time he ate, it felt like cement. It was irritating, if nothing else, the juxtaposition of the eerie, blank calm in his mind and the palpitations of his heart. 

Thomas fiddled with the nametag stuck on his shirt with his free hand, picking at the corners. James watched his own feet, very still, as if he could make himself invisible that way. He wasn’t ashamed of him, he wasn’t. 

To his surprise, it was Peggy who approached him first. Xe plopped in the desk in front of them, munching on caramel popcorn. Xe held out the bag to them. “Hey, assholes. Want some?” 

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “What, they laced with arsenic?” 

“Yep, I love the zing.” Xe grinned and crunched another piece between xyr front teeth. “C’mon.” 

James reached out and took two pieces, passed one to Thomas, who scowled. James squeezed his hand. He took it and rolled it in his mouth, as if he still wasn’t sure whether it was poison. James nibbled at his, appetite uncooperative. 

“You two are so weird,” Peggy said and left to sit by Angelica. 

Thomas took his hand out of James’ and shoved it in his pocket. His face was red. 

The tension in the room was thicker than butter. James found himself focusing intently on his nails, picking stray dirt from beneath them. There wasn’t much. He was careful not to draw blood. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Tom muttered, still slouching. “You know that, right?” 

“What was that?” Hamilton’s eyes were alert, quick, sharp. James looked down at his nails again. 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Tom groaned. “Jesus. I won’t blow up the building. Or will I?” 

“Not funny,” Angelica cut in. 

“You want me to leave? I can leave!” 

“ _Thomas_ ,” James hissed under his breath, but he could see Tom’s shoulders shaking beside him. 

Hamilton spoke up again. “I just want to know what you said. It’s a simple enough question.” 

“I said I hope you burn in Hell,” Tom drawled. 

“Firstly, I don’t believe in—“ 

“Oh, who the fuck cares what you—“ 

“Very original, assface,” LaFayette interrupted. “None of us have heard that before.” 

“You are making a scene,” James whispered softly, pointedly. 

“Well, maybe I _wanna_ make a scene,” Tom answered at full volume, and James had to resist rolling his eyes back in his head. “Maybe I want to, because we don’t belong in here.” 

“Then where _do_ you belong?” Eliza’s voice was clear. James raised his eyebrows. 

“I do not belong here,” he said again, and suddenly he wasn’t Tom, he was Thomas Jefferson, Senator’s son, honors student, heir to a mansion. “I’m not like all of you.” 

“How is that?” Hamilton interjected. “How exactly are you different when we all know that you and Madison have been acting practically as double-agents for—“ 

“How dramatic can you get?” 

“Double-agents with highly _salacious_ and _extracurricular_ implications—“ 

“Oh, c’mon, just because _Laurens_ wants a dick up his ass—“ 

“You wanna say that again?” John Laurens, who had been silent for the whole ordeal, now lurched forward, fists clenched, face so white James thought he’d bled out. “You wanna say that to my fucking face? Huh?” 

“All of you, shut up!” Angelica snapped. James swept the room to see Maria with her head in her hands, Eliza glaring, Hercules with his eyes so wide, he could almost see the whites. Hamilton and Laurens looked like they couldn’t decide who was supposed to hold the other back. “I will not tolerate this behavior in this room.” 

James licked his lips. “Angelica….” 

“Not in this room,” she repeated, quieter, shaking her head. 

James stood up and looked at Thomas, raised his eyebrows. 

Thomas slouched further in his chair, crossed his arms. 

James narrowed his eyes. “I _will_ leave,” he hissed. 

Thomas glowered, then pulled himself up, trailed James out of the room. 

James turned when they reached the stairs, metal door heaving itself shut behind them. “What the hell was that?” 

Thomas shrugged. 

“I’m serious.” 

Tom reached for him, and James grappled, pushed him away. Thomas stood a couple steps below him, dark eyes wide, silent. “… Is this a fight?” he finally asked. 

“Yes. Jefferson. It is.” James couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t see straight. He shook his head, annoyed. His hands tingled. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not _me_ who you—“ James shook his head again. He squinted. “You do not need to apologize to me.” 

“I’m not going back in there.” 

“’Burn in Hell?’ Really?” James’ face felt hot. 

“I’m sorry.” 

James’ head swam. He saw all of Tom’s features, zig-zagging, existent, but he couldn’t piece them together like he usually could. Like staring at a word in a language he couldn’t understand. He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t _focus_ on him, and it was desperately annoying. “Are you pretending it never happened now?” 

“James, no— James—“ 

“Where is your damn self-respect? Where is your dignity?” 

Tom’s eyes were wide, glassy, a hand over his mouth. James suddenly realized he was yelling. He looked at his shoes, took a deep breath. 

“You cannot talk to people like that,” he annunciated. 

“We aren’t like them. James,” he rasped. “We aren’t like that.” 

That was rich. Coming from someone who’d had James’ dick in his mouth well more than once in the last month. Instead of that, James said, “If you do not wish to partake in the activities of the group, then I will simply do it without you.” 

“James? James, I’m sorry.” 

“Then apologize to Angelica Schuyler. To John Laurens.” James shook his head. “I love you, but I won’t clean up after you.” 

“You love me?” 

James met his eyes. He bit his lip. “Would I have brought you if I didn’t?” 

“I don’t know.” 

James fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “Yes. But I want friends, and you need them.” He rubbed his eyes. “Thomas. This was supposed to be for you.” 

“I’m…” 

“I guess I don’t know why I thought it would work.” 

“Hamilton—“ 

“I don’t give a single shit about Alexander Hamilton, and neither should you. For Christ’s sake. Thomas. We both know how we hate dishonest people.” 

Thomas was silent. 

James breathed again. “I am sorry for yelling.” 

“It’s fine.” 

James shook his head. “I am sorry for yelling…. This cannot happen again.” 

“It won’t. I promise. I promise.” 

James nodded, walked towards the door. 

“Are you going back?” 

James shook his head. “Going home.” 

He sat in his car for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the wheel, trying to get his hands to work for him. His phone was silent. He guessed Tom had gotten the message. 

On the drive back, he rolled the windows all the way down so that the wind was painful. He gasped in huge, cold, burning swallows of it, speeding down empty roads, knowing he wouldn’t care if he crashed. Without Tom in the car, he had a lot less incentive. 

“Your hair is messy,” Nelly commented when he dragged himself through the sitting room. She had with a reader open— probably the Bible. Ambrose sat on the other end of the couch, eyebrows knit together, concentrating on homework, a cup of coffee sitting firmly on a coaster beside him. Was twelve young for drinking coffee? James didn’t know. 

“Is ma home?” he asked. 

Nelly nodded. “Downstairs.” 

James nodded, too tired to feel her out, and walked the long walk to his bedroom. He wrapped himself in his blankets and sighed. _Burn in Hell._ He didn’t have the stamina for anger.

__

It was a Thursday evening; John was in the kitchen, trying to keep the noise down as he looted the fridge. 

“Hungry?”

He bolted up. His dad was leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” John closed the fridge doors, straightened his back.

“It would have probably been smart to come down for dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” he lied. 

Henry rolled his eyes. “Guess you’re at that age.”

“Guess.” 

“So,” Henry continued. “I see you and your friend had a drink last weekend?”

John blanched. “Uh.”

Henry laughed. “Oh, I know how it goes.”

John’s heartbeat was still not back to normal. “Ha-a.” 

“I too was seventeen once.” Henry laughed, punched at John’s shoulder. “Though we usually snuck some girls in.” An eyebrow wiggle. “Were there girls?”

John’s face must’ve been red. “No.”

“Come on, I won’t get mad.” Henry was still not showing any signs of being willing to let the subject drop. “Teenage boys have needs.”

 _Jesus christ_. A part of John couldn’t wait to text Hercules. “Dad.”

Henry laughed, finally moved to the side. Picking up the bundle of snacks, John made a move to leave.

“You can tell us if you want to bring a friend over, you know.” Fuck— it did seem too good to be true. “I’d take the girls out for dinner, give you some room.”

 _What happened to abstinence only?_ “Ok, dad, thanks.”

“Just as long as it’s a girl.” Henry winked; John held back a groan. “Don’t make me have to tell your aunts why I have no grandchildren.”

“There’s always Mary.” 

Henry quirked an eyebrow. John’s mouth went dry.

“It was a joke,” he added. “Can I go now or do I need to make a child first—”

“Can the attitude.” At least Henry was smiling again. John rushed past, brain positively numb.

 **Johnnyboy:** dad just asked me to procreate

 **Peggy Schoo:** like right away?

 **Johnnyboy:** har har

 **Peggy Schoo:** js i wouldnt be surprised

 **Mom:** are you okay?

 **Johnnyboy:** hahah yeah it was just really weird

 **doc marthens:** is that double standards i hear

 **Johnnyboy:** he basically gave me a blessing to have het sex on the couch

 **Johnnyboy:** if anyone wants to have het sex on my couch feel free

 **doc marthens:** he saHOLY SHIT

 **doc marthens:** we dont have a straight friend!!

 **Peggy Schoo:** WE DONT HAVE A STRAIGHT FRIEND

 **LaFfy Saffy:** thank jesus

 **Mom:** Your dad is so odd ://

 **Peggy Schoo:** you spelled fucky** wrong 

**doc marthens:** shhhh now

Mary knocked at his doors around ten, a brush in hand.

“I can’t reach the back of my head and mum is busy,” was her version of a polite request.

“That’s unfortunate,” John said, still accepting the brush and letting her in. He ruffled her hair once before actually starting to comb it; her sigh carried exasperation beyond her age. “How old are you again?” he asked.

“You’re not funny,” she replied.

“Oh?” He put the brush down. “Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not— no!” She broke into giggles as he tickled her sides; it was only when she accidentally punched his nose that he retreated.

“Sorry.” She didn’t look sorry. “How do you always get punched in the nose?”

“It’s a talent.”

Her face grew serious. John frowned.

“Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

John laughed. “What?”

“Mum and dad were talking about you.” She was squinting at him. “You’re not denying.”

“I do not have a secret girlfriend.” He was still laughing. “Do they think I have one?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“They don’t.” She was still squinting. “But I do.”

“Oh?” He snorted. “And why is that?”

“You look… lovestruck.” 

He burst out laughing.

“I am not joking.”

“Okay, sorry.” He wiped at his eyes. _Jesus._ “I don’t have a secret girlfriend.”

She seemed pensive for a second. “Would you tell me if you did?”

“Of course!” He quickly sobered up. “Hey. I’d introduce you two and then she could brush your hair.”

“And probably do a better job,” she agreed. John stuck his tongue out in reply. 

“Can’t argue that.”

“Do you have a secret boyfriend?”

John spluttered. “What?”

“Hey, nowadays you gotta ask.” She got up to her feet, shook out her hair. “If you find one, I want to meet him too.”

“Okay?!”

“I hear gay men are good with hair.”

“Jesus fu— okay.”

“Haa, you totally just swore in front of me.”

“I saw pewdiepie in your search history, you’re not fooling anyone.” He swatted at her. “Go, go, go.”

“Okay, okay!”

She kept laughing the whole way down the corridor. John slumped back, tried and failed to decide on what he was feeling. 

—

“Alexander— a word?”

Alex halted in his tracks, shuffled in his place. “Yes?”

Angelica fixed him with a long, penetrating look.

He licked his lips. “George should be here any moment. As much as I love our talks….”

“I heard about Maria.”

 _Shit._ His blood went cold. He’d forgotten the mishap, amidst everything—

She squinted. “Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?”

“Well, I— I didn’t presume it to hold enough weight to warrant— I don’t know why you would bring this up at the present—”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I was under a _lot_ of pressure. It didn’t mean anything, but if you want to discuss the issue, be my—”

“I don’t want to _fight_ with you, Hamilton. Christ.” He winced at the coldness of the surname. She rubbed her forehead, and he noticed darker circles than usual around her eyes. Her hair, as always, was perfect, but her shoulders slumped with an unfamiliar fatigue. “I just want this all to stay together.”

“I did not intend to be a divisive force!”

“Well, you don’t _intend_ a lot of things,” she sighed exasperatedly, and his chest flared.

“It _was_ wrong to kiss your girlfriend, and I know that, but Angelica….”

“This isn’t about her being ‘my’ girlfriend.” She made quotations. “You just… went for it.”

“I wasn’t— It was only a kiss. I did not go any farther.”

“By your prompting, or hers?”

He flushed.

“That’s what I thought.” She crossed her arms and looked away, blinked rapidly.

“It will never happen again.”

“It better not.”

“You won’t… you wouldn’t dare tell John.”

She stared at him, shook her head slowly. “You’re such a trip.”

“I would never cheat on—”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t _look at me_ like that,” he hissed. “I’ve been assured of his affections, I would never do something like that now. My previous actions stemmed from—” He licked his lips. His hands were white fists on his backpack straps. “A feeling that— that I had failed in securing a mutual—”

She rolled her eyes.

He felt like punching something.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she sighed. “Please.”

“It _won’t_.”

She looked at him disappointedly before leaving the campus, head down.

He glared and bit his hand. Desperately ran around angry justifications for what he’d done. It had just been a _kiss_ , it wasn’t like—

There was too much to worry about now, anyway.

—

“This seat taken?”

John looked up at the familiar voice, grinned. “Hey.”

“That’s not an answer,” Eliza mock-pouted, already setting her books down. Due to their teacher’s absence, the Biology class got converted into an extra study hall— John moved his books around, giving Eliza more space. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” He watched her fiddle with her colour-coded notebooks. “You?”

“Good,” she sniffed the air, pulled a face. “Do you want a mint?”

“Uh.” His stomach dropped. “Busted?”

She handed him a tin. He avoided her eyes.

“I’m not angry with you.” She kicked his calf. “But seriously, what was it?”

“Rum.”

“Yuck.”

“I mixed it with coke.”

“Still yuck.” She hooked his foot with hers. “Is everything okay?”

He laid his head down on the desk, sighed. A hand found its way into his hair. 

“I think I’m doing a shitty job at being alive,” he whispered. 

Eliza kept stroking his hair. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Didn’t you just call my ass out for underage drinking?”

She laughed, scratched at his scalp. “Well, you’re not dead, so.”

“Owning it.”

Some shuffling— then her face was pressed against the desk too, facing him.

“You know science says these desks are filthier than public urinals?” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Nice try at deflecting.” She reached over, booped his nose. “Is this about what Jefferson said?”

“Dude.”

“Sorry!” she laughed. “Is it about your dad?”

“Why would it be about my dad?”

She frowned, continued playing with his hair. “Because he’s your dad, and terrible.”

“He’s not doing anything bad to me.”

“John.”

“Seriously, he doesn’t hit me or anything.” He lightly pushed her hand away. “He’s not _bad_.”

“That’s not how the grading scale works and you know it.” She retracted her arm. “But I won’t trash him.”

“He’s seriously not a bad person.”

“Okay.”

He groaned, sat up. She followed suit.

“Just—” He paused, unsure how to phrase anything. “What am I doing?”

She tilted her head, let him continue.

“I’m... thinking about things.” He started tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, increasingly frustrated. “Like, future things.” A ‘hm’. “Just— everyone has ambitions in life and I’m gonna be a senior next year and what the fuck am I—” he paused for breath. Eliza was watching him with sympathy. “Can you just plan my entire life out for me?”

“I could, but you wouldn’t follow through.”

He snorted. “Probably.” 

“Want some advice, though?” She reached over, touched his hand. He nodded. “Cut down on the drinks, maybe.”

He watched her hand— it was very small, very pale. “Maybe.”

“It’s easier to think when you’re sober.”

“I don’t want to think, though.”

She squeezed his hand.

He leaned into her, sighed. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re not.” She was still holding his hand. “You just have a drinking problem.”

He was silent for a while. She kept holding his hand.

“Do I have a drinking problem?”

She looked over. He met her eyes.

“Well,” she started. “What time is it?”

“Okay, so I drank before noon, big deal.”

“You do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well—” he didn’t have a counter-argument. “I’m seventeen.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to prove something?”

He bit his lip. She was still holding his hand.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, got up. Her eyes followed him.

“John—”

“Be back soon.”

 **John Laurens:** do i have a drinking problem?

 **Martha Manning:** is this a trick question

Eliza found him again after school. He half-expected her to be angry; she just looked worried, though, and John found it to be somehow worse.

“You forgot your textbook,” she said. “I gave it to Alex.”

“Thanks.” He was looking at his shoes. He really needed to wash them, fuck. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You have a point, just—” He groaned. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“You really are.”

He rolled his eyes. “Funny.”

“I really am.”

He rolled his eyes again. “How did I manage this?”

“What exactly?” Her hair was braided. It hadn’t been braided before. He decided to ask later. “Aging?”

“Har-har.” He started walking towards the MSU classroom. “The— I’m not calling it a drinking problem, that’s ridiculous.”

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“You are too patient with me,” he said. She hooked an arm around his, hip-checked him. “I’m seventeen!”

“So?” 

“That’s not— drinking problem is— fuck.”

She hip-checked him again.

“It’s what. I don’t know. War veterans deal with. Desperate housewives. Adults.”

“There isn’t an age limit on addiction.”

 _Addiction._ “That sounds ridiculous too.”

“Addiction?”

“Yeah!” He was getting on his own nerves. “I’m— I’m not— addicts like, have serious problems.”

“You have a serious problem.”

“I don’t!” He finally paused. He was really glad the hallway seemed completely empty because holy _shit_ , was he embarrassing. “I just drink, a bit too much sometimes but—”

She watched him, expectant. He sighed.

“Like, people have their whole lives ruined and health seriously endangered by addiction, and I’m here with my hangover being a pussy.” He ran a hand through his hair, swore. “It feels like I’m, I don’t know, making light of it.”

“John.” She sounded exasperated. “Your dad keeps you well equipped with alcohol, for some reason, correct?”

He rolled his eyes. “Correct.”

“You have no job to lose, correct?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Did Alex complain about your drinking?”

He didn’t answer. It seemed to be an answer enough.

“How are your grades?”

He didn’t answer, again.

“Now I’m not a doctor yet, but—”

“Yet?”

“I’m considering all my options.” She smiled. “John, you’re seventeen. And rich.”

“Okay.”

She paused for a second, laughed. John joined in.

“Okay, okay.” She stood up straight. “You have a drinking problem.”

He stayed silent.

“Maybe the reason your situation doesn’t match the images of alcoholism—” he cringed at the word— “you see in the media but, _John_.”

“Eliza?”

She sighed. “There’s a very big ‘yet’ I don’t want to say.”

He bit his lip. She averted her eyes.

“I need to get my shit together.”

“John.” 

“That’s cool.” He shrugged. She was still looking at him weird. “Sorry for the— uh. Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” 

They spent another few moments in uncomfortable silence.

“MSU,” she finally said.

“Angelica will skin us,” he whispered. She cracked a smile. “Do you think Jefferson will be there?”

“He seemed to have fun the last time.”

“You never know with that guy.”

He hip-checked her just as they were about to enter the room, just for good measure.

—

“Listen, James, while we’re on the subject… I’d like you to check up on Thomas for me.” 

Madison looked up from his computer screen, fingers pausing. He picked at a nail. The slowly waning light filtering through the classroom window made his face look smooth, even more impassive than usual. “How’s that?” 

“He seems distant lately,” Adams patiently explained. “I’ve tried to ask him what’s wrong, but I don’t think he’s being honest with me. I know you aren’t as close to him, but I thought you could give it a shot.” 

Madison blinked. “Not as close.” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” John sighed exasperatedly. “I know him the best as anyone does, but I can’t figure out what’s going on with him. I apologize if this is a hassle for you, but—“ 

“Know him… the best,” Madison repeated. Something had changed in his demeanor; his straight back was stiff, his hands brittle where they hovered above the keyboard. 

Adams smiled warmly. “It’s not that I don’t care about you too. It’s just that I know you aren’t exactly as emotionally connected with him. Either way, it’s just a favor between friends.” 

Madison sat still for a moment, mouth half-open. He slowly shut his computer and pushed back his chair, gripping its edges. “I can’t believe you’re serious.” 

Adams quirked his head. Something was off. “Of course I’m serious about my best friend—“

“Best friend?” Madison’s eyebrows jumped. His eyes were widening, voice like slowly unfurling, rumbling storm clouds. “You wouldn’t know Thomas Jefferson from the dirt on your shoes.” 

Adams stammered, “Pardon me, but…” 

“It wouldn’t be such a big deal if you didn’t _presume_ the way you do,” Madison snapped, voice frighteningly quiet. “About me, about both of us. You don’t know a damn thing about my ‘emotional connection’ to Thomas. It’s as if you don’t think anything goes on under your nose.” He laughed nastily, breathily. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t act so— so entitled.” 

“Entitled?!” Now it was Adams’ voice that rose. “I don’t even know where this is coming from!” 

“I’ve known Tom for longer than you’ve known _Abigail!_ ” Madison yelled raggedly. “You think that just because I work with you on some _completely_ insignificant paper with about as much impact on this school as the price of wheat in Russia, you somehow know me!” 

Adams gaped, flabbergasted. His eyes stung. “James….” 

Madison stood abruptly, snapping his notebook shut and heaving up his enormous backpack. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” he spat, “and you don’t know Thomas Jefferson at all.” 

For some reason, all Adams could manage was, “I’ve never heard you say that word before.” 

Madison’s lip curled in plain and piercing disgust. His voice was ice. “I am not _weak_ , and I will not be pushed around by the likes of you.” He shook his head. “Consider my career as your editor terminated.” 

John Adams stared in stark astonishment as he strode rigidly out, books and laptop clutched in a death grip to his thin chest. He swallowed. Licked his lips. Then, he reached for his phone to call Abby.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: theodosias cancer and johns past sexual abuse are talked around, but not mentioned explicitly (scenes 2 and 3, respectively), and past self-harm is casually mentioned in scene 4
> 
> yes, i know that thomas jefferson and john adams had a very deep and important relationship with what many would say are romantic undertones. no, i do not care. yes, i love to vilify john adams. fight me
> 
> i am the og pretentious ap macro student i know how we talk
> 
> s/o to YoLetsStealTheirCannons, the original "get it jemmy" (same)

**john a stopped texting me back WOW two down in one week and im sincerely considering becoming a hermit in the russian tundra**

**\- okay you know id never go to russia but**

**\- i dont even know why im texting you becaus eyouve made it clear u don’t wanna talk its a force of habit i guess everything is boring without you; nothings fun without you james**

**\- i got no idea why hed stop talking to me though since sometimes i wonder whether he wants to fuck me more than you do but, okay that was in bad taste, but my point is hes ridiculous on all fronts… i thought you might know something about it though i dont expect you to Talk with him more than necessary, u know that**

_i had a bit of an outburst in his direction this past friday._

**OH SNAP about what (also thank you????????)**

**\- ((for replying i mean; not for adams-- though thanks for that too I guess???? lol anyways))**

_it doesn’t matter._

_\- you’re welcome._

**i gotta knowwww**

_do you really?_

**i mean ? not if you dont wanna say**

_he implied that your relationship with him was deeper than the one with me._

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA WHAAAAATT**

**\- i didnt take you for the jealous type, mr madison**

_well, the accusation itself was hilarious._

_\- i just don’t like when he presumes things about my life that aren’t true._

**of course lol**

**\- do i get to kow DETAILS??????**

_well, i pointed out that i’ve known you for longer than he’s known abby. i assume it didn’t go over well, but i left the room soon after, and i frankly don’t care._

**i fuccjsijkahbadsjhbadsb love you hoyl shitt**

_i know._

**hahaha yeah**

**\- tbh i wonder whether its even that deep u know**

**\- between john and abby i mean**

_well, they are close_

_\- almost disturbingly so._

**ya but do u ever even see them touch in public??? like when was the last time they held hands or sth**

_we don’t hold hands in public._

**but theyre STRAIGHT**

**\- ohhh you were joking**

**\- duhhhh**

**\- also theyre an item**

_well, i suppose we are too, in our own right. the msu’s reactions were rather strong._

**hahahhaha yeah**

**\- but like**

**\- idk**

**\- do you still**

_what?_

**do you still think of us that way idk idk what im saying**

_as an item?_

_\- are you asking me whether we’re still dating?_

**yeah i guess lol**

_of course we are._

_\- at least, as far as my desires are concerned._

_\- did i do something to make you think otherwise???_

**you seemed really angry with me**

_i was really angry with you. that doesn’t mean i wanted to break up._

_\- did you think that was a breakup??????_

**kinda????????**

_you are thicker than JOHN ADAMS_

_\- that would be like_

_\- like_

_\- cutting a sun off of a solar system, thomas._

_\- if you think i’d give up on you when things aren’t perfect, then i don’t know whose constitution that speaks to, mine or yours._

**oh**

**\- thank you??**

_there’s nothing to thank me for._

_\- also: was that an admission to being gay i saw up there?_

**where???**

_…_

**ok ok you caught me red-handed i guess??????**

_im putting this on my princeton application._

_\- after 84 years…_

**oh shut up**

**\- I DONT KNOW jesus i mean i used to think it was just you but then it wasnt just you**

**\- so that complicated things okokok cause i know u want the ~~~rationale~~~ or whatever**

_i wasn’t going to ask, but okay._

**FUCK**

_it was just you for me._

**what????????**

**\- wait are u serious??????????**

_yes._

_\- well, you and a couple others._

_\- haha. my attraction to others is so infrequent that i started journaling it, as a matter of fact._

**wHO ELSE IS IN THE JOURANL**

_that is classified._

**CMONNN**

_pushing it._

**is it dolley i bet its dolley**

_no. for chrissakes, tom, i am actually gay._

_\- i thought i had a crush on her for approximately a week once, but it died fairly quickly._

_\- though i suppose if i had to pick a girl ?_

**YIKES**

_what was that about me being the jealous type?_

**SOTPT AHKAHAKHKJAHLADSH**

_i can’t even read that._

**victory**

_fuck you._

**OKAY**

_pushing. it._

**ok ok ok**

**\- but we are still**

**\- like**

**\- boyfriends**

_yes, we are still, like, boyfriends._

_\- we just have a little work to do, but thats no different than before._

_\- all right, this is different than before, but my point is that we can do it, but only if you'll let us work on it together._

**okay.**

_- <3_

**< 3**

—

Aaron Burr had a headache.

“So, when that currency is inserted, the money multiplier is—“

“Five.“

“Obviously, so when it circulates—“

He rubbed his temples. When Alexander had brought up that Aaron had still not made well on his coffee proposition, Aaron didn’t have the heart to tell him that it had been were vague at most, and had reminded him that A. P. tests were arriving not too far in the future. Quick as that, the coffee was now a study session, and Madison had, for no reason Aaron could discern, flickered into their conversation and had now slipped into the studying himself, doing significantly more talking than Aaron was.

“And this would organically increase capital formation,” James evenly intoned, hands in a steeple in front of his mouth.

“Yes! So, you see—“

“So, you see, is the amount of monetary regulation you’re proposing really necessary? The value of land, when determined by the market system—“

“Hey, I never said that! The rapid inflation of the overall impact of— impact of the commercial banking system, when left unchecked, is ripe for corruption and avarice, and—“

“And you think the Federal Reserve is not?”

“The _Board of Directors_ is elected by—“

Aaron numbly watched Alexander’s quick fingers poured a twelfth sugar packet into his coffee and vaguely wondered how deeply that would impact his health. It had been quite a while since Madison and Hamilton had diverged from the textbook, which now lay open between the two of them. How cheap did either of them think property could _get_ , he wondered.

His phone buzzed, and he slumped in relief.

**ayy how is the coffee date**

_less of a date, more of a debate_

_\- one that i am not involved in_

**is he talking to himself again**

_madison is here_

**LMAO say hi to him from me ;D**

**\- get it jemmy**

_why is everyone around me disgusting_

**ummm that’s a rude thing to say to someone who has**

**\- the hots for u**

Aaron shoved his phone screen down, face going hot. Fortunately, the other two didn’t notice.

“I’ve taken five A. P. tests already, so I think I know what I’m doing.” James shrugged. “If you think you understand the course material better than me….”

“I _do_ think so, as a matter of fact, and I know so!”

“You just have different political opinions; you can live with that,” Aaron muttered.

They both stared at him like he’d grown a second head. James slowly licked cappuccino foam off one finger, then turned back and started arguing with Hamilton again, just as centered and even-toned as before.

Aaron’s headache was slowly growing into a migraine.

“So who did better on A. P. U. S. Government?” Alexander leaned forward on his elbows, nearly spilling his coffee. “You or Jefferson?”

James took a long, languid sip from his cappuccino. “That is classified information, and insensitive of you to ask at this juncture.” He made eye contact with Alexander across the table. “I did, of course.”

Alexander smacked the table, drawing some looks. “I knew it.”

_i want to die_

**sPILL**

_in a moment_

_\- how are you?_

**okay i guess**

**\- better. a lil nauseous lol**

_!!!!!!!!_

**dont !!!!!!!! me young man**

_< 333_

**i cant take u anywhere baby**

When Aaron looked up again, Alexander had caught a wicked glint in his dark eyes. He chugged his coffee, twirled a pencil in his hand. “So.”

 _Oh, shit_ , Aaron thought.

“What can you tell me about Jefferson’s dick?”

Aaron nearly choked.

Madison’s face remained stoic as he set down his coffee. “What do you want to know? He’ll be so glad to know you’re so intrigued.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “You were out since when?”

“You just admitted you already knew.”

Aaron shook his head. _alexander wants to know about jeffersons lower regions_

**ok but like same tho**

“Chop, chop.” Alex actually made a chopping motion on the table. “Like, you’re knowledgeable about this.”

“I’m glad you admit it.”

“ _Only_ about oral, though. This changes nothing about the monetary policy scandal.”

“Well.” Madison tilted his head. “He’s circumcised, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

_if i die young bury me in satin etc etc_

**ill bury u in homespun if ur lucky u motherufcker**

Alexander’s face was split in an elated grin. He dug a nickel out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “Tell me about his kinks.”

James smiled slowly, pocketed the coin, and folded his hands again. “Well…”

_JEUSUSUSS CHRIST THEO_

_\- i didnt think hed actly SAY SHIT_

_\- i didnt want to hear about this today_

**I DO WHAT THE FCUK BE M SECRETARY BOY**

**\- RECORD THAT SHIT**

**\- MONETIZE**

_i wish we were_

_\- i hear bleach is in high demand this time of year_

It wasn’t until 8 P. M. that Alex stood up to shake Madison’s hand and thank him for “the best study session I’ve ever had.”

James smiled politely in turn. “Likewise.”

Aaron slid next to him when James left. “Was that really necessary?”

“Hey.” He smiled cheekily. “Not like I’ve had much to practice with.”

Aaron tensed— then cracked a smile back. “You imply that sock drawers are inadequate sources of sex ed.”

Alex’s grin widened. “Caught red-handed, I’m afraid.”

—

 **doc marthens:** i’m just saying there’s an antrophological explanation for every kink humanity has exhibited

 **Peggy Schoo:** my kink is killing comedy with political correctness

 **doc marthens:** sounds like a furry coverup to me

 **LaFfy Saffy:** I am leaving this chat as we speak.

 **doc marthens:** are you going straight?

 **Peggy Schoo:** good job martha you scared them into cisness

 **LaFfy Saffy:** You are gifts.

 **Mari:** my kink is our cosmic irrelevance

 **LaFfy Saffy:** !! I am wet.

 **doc marthens:** is this a game of kink chicken because i think im losing

 **Johnnyboy:** hey hey hey guys im ace

 **Peggy Schoo:** noo dont give up i believe in you manning

 **Peggy Schoo:** waIT

 **doc marthens:** JOHN

 **Mari:** YESYESYES

 **LaFfy Saffy:** We are multiplying!

 **Johnnyboy:** hahah ok keep talking about kinks now.

 **Mari:** <3<3<3<3<3<3<3 SON 

—

_I told them hahah_

**I can see that.**

**\- I am very proud of you.**

**\- That was really brave.**

**- <3**

_< 3_

_\- but ughhhhh it feels_

**Yes?**

_I don’t know_

_\- I’m not used to not being in denial_

_\- also im like hahah_

_\- i think i need to have this conversation with someone else_

**Oh.**

**\- If you feel so, I respect that. You do know yourself best.**

**\- I hope everything goes well. I understand if I’m not wanted.**

_hey hey i still want to talk to you !! dont go anywhere_

_\- pep talk me as i message lafayette about the fine technicalities of being asexual_

**I don’t think there are many technicalities to being a specific sexual orientation?**

_dude do you not have the internet or_

—

 **John Laurens:** hey hey hey 

**John Laurens:** hows my fav person

 **LaFayette:** That does not sound suspicious at all.

 **LaFayette:** /eyes emoji

 **John Laurens:** you can just use the actual emoji you do know that

 **LaFayette:** Yes, but this makes people upset and I find it amusing.

 **LaFayette:** What do you want to talk about?

 **LaFayette:** Fellow asexual.

 **John Laurens:** ok quit being weird

 **LaFayette:** Let us discuss our experiences with binary fission.

 **John Laurens:** fuck off i had to google that

 **John Laurens:** LAF

 **John Laurens:** ,,,,non-binary fission

 **LaFayette:** Hercules made this joke in sophomore year.

 **LaFayette:** But had he not I’d leave him for you.

 **John Laurens:** fuck im always late

 **John Laurens:** ok anyways i sort of had a hypothetical question

 **LaFayette:** Mmm I love hypothesis. 

**John Laurens:** is that also your kink?

 **LaFayette:** Don’t tell Mulligan.

 **LaFayette:** Also, you were saying.

 **John Laurens:** wow pushy

 **John Laurens:** okay, hypothetically

 **John Laurens:** if someone were to identify as ace

 **LaFayette:** You know, the use of subjunctive already says the action is hypothetical, you don’t need to be excessive.

 **John Laurens:** wow sorry mx bilingual

 **LaFayette:** I took AP assiduousness classes in France.

 **John Laurens:** it paid off!

 **LaFayette:** I will stop being an Alex now, go on.

 **John Laurens:** AN ALEX

 **LaFayette:** Am I wrong.

 **John Laurens:** yeah okay but i cant be a madison you deserve so

 **LaFayette:** Hercules is saying he loves you.

 **John Laurens:** is he there??

 **LaFayette:** No, I texted him this joke.

 **LaFayette:** Are you okay?

 **John Laurens:** pssht yes

 **LaFayette:** I keep interrupting, I am sorry.

 **John Laurens:** ts cool

 **LaFayette:** You were saying?

 **John Laurens:** ughhhhh

 **LaFayette:** Asexuality is defined as not experiencing sexual attraction.

 **LaFayette:** Does not matter how this came to be.

 **John Laurens:** mmmm gotcha

 **John Laurens:** thank you

 **LaFayette:** I did nothing. ;*

 **John Laurens:** look! A real emoji

 **LaFayette:** Cherish it.

 **LaFayette:** Also.

 **LaFayette:** I will not push, but

 **LaFayette:** If you ever need anything, I am here.

 **LaFayette:** Hercules too.

 **John Laurens:** haha thanks

 **John Laurens:** im really ok tho

 **LaFayette:** to quote, “gotcha”

 **John Laurens:** to quote, ;*

—

Eliza smelled like lemon soap and cereal. Alex ran the back of his index finger casually along her calf, since she’d said it was okay and she’d only snorted a couple times, half-freaked out by how smooth her skin was. He was lying back on her bed, head between her wide-apart feet while she messed with her guitar. He’d eaten so many snacks that his stomach felt like it would explode if he had any more. (The Schuylers had a frighteningly clean and enormous kitchen. Alex thought vacantly that he wouldn’t terribly mind living here.)

He hazarded a cocky grin. “Will you play me something?”

She rolled her upside-down eyes. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “Anything. It’s just, you’re so good.”

She huffed and mock-slapped his cheek, though it was more of a pat than anything. He grinned again. “Okay, okay.” She cleared her throat. Her fingers plucked a rhythm on the strings, slow and then dazzlingly complex. When she began to hum with it, Alexander couldn’t help the tears that sprung to his eyes.

He propped himself up on one shoulder. “Eliza!”

“What?”

“You’re so _talented_.”

“I _practice_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes again, but with a dimple in her cheek.

He sat up fully and properly across from her. “Why don’t you advertise your skills? If I had that kind of talent—“

“Practice!”

“— I’d show everyone who came my way. Seriously, Betsey, you have a gift.”

A soft blush rose to her cheeks. Alexander thought her remarkably lovely. She was wearing high-waisted shorts that she never wore at school, and Alex could see some of the rippling, criss-crossing marks of ash on her thighs. Instead of worrying or envy-inspiring, they were reassuring. Her trust in him, the trust he could place in her— his eyes almost stung again, and he sniffed.

He poked her leg again, making her huff. “I’m sorry! It’s just so weird!” He scratched his arm. “I haven’t shaved in _years_. Wanna see?”

“Alex!”

He was already rolling up his jeans, settling on his elbows to kick his legs above his head. “There’s nothing wrong with the natural functions of the human body, Eliza—“

She shoved off her guitar and pushed his legs back down. “I know!”

“Hey!”

“Ooh, they are fuzzy.”

“My pride and my joy.”

“I was thinking of quitting, actually.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Quitting shaving?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, my legs.”

“Is there a Michfest you’re going to that I don’t know about?”

“Do you know about the other Michfests?”

He threw his hands in the air and sighed in exasperation, flopping on his back.

She laughed and pushed his stomach with her foot. “Chill. It’s just a hassle, you know? And, I don’t know, if that means I look like some sort of stereotype, then I can live with that. Not like I’m not used to it.”

Alex nodded sagely. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Did you know people always used to be shocked that Angie gets better grades than me?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure that Angie doesn’t get better grades than _me._ ”

“Precisely.” She rolled onto her stomach next to Alex, propped on her elbows, and he followed suit.

Suddenly, his heart hurt. He frowned at his hands, which he twisted together.

She bumped his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

He bit his cheek. “Nothing.”

“Not when I murder you in your sleep for not telling me what’s wrong.”

“You sound like me talking to John. Only a little less eloquent.”

“Now I’m murdering you for real.” She softened her voice. “Really.”

“It’s just…” He shrugged, even though he hated shruggers. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Miss me?” Her frown deepened. “Alex, is something going on?”

He looked at her face. It was white. “No, no! Not like…” He laughed. “What, did your mind go someplace morbid? Talk about irrational.”

She laughed back, breathily. “Are you leaving the States?”

“I’m graduating early.”

Her face fell.

He shifted. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“Oh. I… all right.” She nodded, raven hair falling over her face.

“Well, now you’re just making me feel bad. I’d honestly prefer you murder me.”

“ _Alex._ ”

“What?”

“Well… are you sure it’s what you want to do?” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What else would I do?”

“You could stay.”

“I don’t have….“

She blinked. “You don’t have what?”

He swallowed. “It’s inefficient. It would be a waste of a precious year that I could spend getting professional experience, classical training— I want to _do_ things, Eliza. I have no reason to stay behind.”

“No reason?” She frowned again, this time bitterly, meeting his eyes. “Why are we a waste of time to you?”

“Eliza— Eliza, that’s not what I meant—“

“What’s wrong with where you are now? What’s wrong with graduating high school at the normal age?”

He grit his teeth. _Because it would make me average. Because I’ve never been average. Because I can feel every minute of every day crawling on my skin, because I’m starved, because I don’t have that much longer to live—_

He licked his lips. “I don’t appreciate you twisting my words.”

“I’m sorry. Just… the school would lose some of its charm. You’re part of it, now.”

“Enough of a part to start fistfights, apparently.”

“Angie would miss you. John would miss you.” Her voice got quiet. “I would miss you.”

He blinked. His heart did uncomfortable contortions. “Did you know I’m on antidepressants?” he blurted. _Fuck._

She didn’t miss a beat. “It doesn’t surprise me.”

He laughed long, deflating. “Why do I never surprise anyone?”

She flicked him. “Maybe it’s because they already know you.”

He thought about that. Thought about not kissing John for months at a time. Thought about the weeks he’d spent eating nothing but rice and beans when he was fifteen. Thought about never seeing Eliza’s mint-colored bedspread again.

He sat up and traced the back of Eliza’s leg again. “You really should stop shaving.”

“I already knew that.” She rolled onto her back and extended one of her legs in the air, wiggled her toes. “It’s gonna be bikini season soon,” she said. “Maybe I’ll even wear one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe i forgot to say this before but tumblr user @wev made some delightful fanart for this fic!! you should check it out http://wev.tumblr.com/post/144628064456/trans-jedi-this-is-really-bad-but-i-love-i-dont


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update is kinda late, we hope you all are having good summers!!

**I was almost sure Jefferson knew I was right and was disagreeing just for the disagreements sake but maybe he just is that obtuse.**

**\- Honestly, what does Madison see in him?**

**\- He gave me a list of Jefferson’s kinks and he must share at least half of them because there’s no other reason one should willingly put up with a man who doesn’t seem to understand how inflation works.**

**\- Not that Madison is much better, mind you.**

**\- I keep having to remind myself that my career field is sure to bring me in contact with many similarly infuriating individuals.**

**\- It’s good practice.**

**\- You are not replying. Was this too much?**

**\- I know perhaps my tone was harsh but it was the adrenaline rush and none of it was directed at you.**

**\- Do you agree with Jefferson? I don’t think you’d ever agree with him, but.**

**\- I’ll even tolerate it if you agreed with Jefferson, albeit begrudgingly, though I think with enough time I could have you come around. I have arguments prepared specifically for this purpose, which I may apply indiscriminately.**

**\- We don’t really discuss economics often, you’ll have to forgive my slip. To be honest, I didn’t think you had much of an opinion on the topic.**

**\- Was that condescending?**

**\- I don’t think it was condescending but I am willing to debate on it.**

**\- John, you keep opening my messages without replying. Is everything okay?**

**\- I’ll take that as a no. May I phone you?**

**\- I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but please let me know you’re safe.**

_ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy damn_

_\- im ok im ok dw_

_\- tbh all i got from your rant is that jefferson has an inflatin kink_

**I wouldn’t be surprised.**

**Are you okay?**

_said im fine chiiiiiil_

**Alright.**

**\- Have a good evening.**

_hey hey h+ey_

_\- are yuo mad w me you sound mad_

**I am not “mad”.**

**\- Are you sure you’re okay?**

_yesyes shh_

**Are you drunk?**

_god_

_\- so what if i am_

_\- ist hat gonna be a problem agabn bc im honestls kinya tired_

_\- and if i want to have a fdrink i can have one_

_\- ive ben doing ok before you got here and im not going toc hange my behavir just cos_

_\- nvm_

**I am not angry with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.**

**\- We can discuss your drinking when you’re sober.**

**\- But I could never be angry with you.**

_ughhhhhhh you keep dong THAT_

_\- like im pomped to fihgt you but then you say sothing straigh outta romance novel and i pansy up_

_\- i dotn want to disucss shit_

**I understand and respect that but I cannot back off.**

**\- You can’t only tell me if something is bothering you when you’re intoxicated.**

**\- I can’t deal with only finding things out if you’re intoxicated.**

_so ur breakiung up with me is what youre saing_

_\- Alright._

**I did not say that! I am not doing that?**

**\- Do you want to break up?**

_no im not playing this if ur gonna dump me ur gonna have to spell it out_

**I am not breaking up with you!**

_well_

_\- ok then_

_\- i love you_

_-chirst that was gay hahah_

**I love you too.**

_bluuuuuuuh_

_- <3_

**< 3**

**\- Are you safe?**

_im in m room eating ice cream and drinking vodka_

_\- everything tastes like vodka_

**I heard mixing vodka and dairy is generally a bad idea.**

**\- But that is also how a White Russian is made so I suppose it’s relative.**

_thi sis the closest ill get to drinking bleach wo m neighbours calling the cops_

_\- SHIT that was super shitty_

_\- shit i didnt mean tht alex_

**It’s alright, you’re drunk.**

_see thats what id miss if i quit drinking what othr excose wokrs this universaly_

**Also your neighbours might still call the ambulance if you overdo it.**

_noo you see im eating_

**Ice cream does not count.**

_whend you graduate ic ecream school u dingus_

_\- you CUR_

**< 3**

**\- I am a man of many talents.**

_mmmmm_

**On a serious note.**

**\- I do not blame you for wanting to drink.**

**\- You’ve been through a lot.**

_heyhey no_

_\- also?? Do u know yourself_

_\- do u know your life_

**Better than you do.**

_k true_

**Didn’t mean it in a bad way! I’m just saying.**

**\- It’s not a competition. And I want to act in your best interests.**

_holyy shit did u just say that_

_\- who r u and what did you do eith alexadner i have two nemesis and one fo them si the entrie planet hamilton_

**Funny.**

_u sounded like eliza for a sec_

**Ha, I was actually quoting her.**

_HAAA_

_\- dyou think shes right?_

**Well.**

**\- She is smarter than I am.**

**\- (In that area.)**

_wasj ust boutta ask hahaha_

**I love you a lot.**

_well damn_

_\- i love yout oo_

—

Alex shifted excitedly, glancing at everything, unsure what to do with his hands. The dinner felt like his first day of the year all over again. He reminded himself scathingly that he had _asked_ for this— but as beautiful as the restaurant was, with its velvet drapes and low lighting, and as good as he knew he looked, there was a certain unease lodged just below his heart. He took another bite of steak and chewed slowly, sucking out the salt in his mouth.

“How are you feeling about the Macroeconomics test?” Martha asked. She looked so natural, so elegant, with her hair in a bun and earrings glistening at her smooth, warm brown jaw. So different from Alex’s memories of his real mother— he was in public, he pushed that aside.

He wiped his mouth. “I know I did well on the extended response— though I won’t know my score until July.”

“I know how much you studied.” She smiled and sipped her wine. “I’m sure you did brilliantly.”

He glowed under the praise. “Well, I still have History to go, so….”

“And you have all your college applications in?” George asked.

Alex nodded and fixed his collar. “I’ll settle for sure as soon as summer starts, but if Princeton accepts me, I’ll be sure to go there. Columbia seems like a good backup.” Princeton required _family connections_ ; he’d overheard James discussing it during study hall, fingers brushing over Thomas’ soft and unnoticeable as his whispers. Alexander had been thinking about the eating clubs for days— he’d have to dress up for fancy dinners like these, talk evenly and uninterrupted. Like he was sitting on a throne instead of a mound of every scholarship he’d managed to scrape up. _Brown eyes_ , how ridiculous was that… not that he wasn’t grateful.

“And you’re sure you want to go right away,” George said, brows drawn together.

Alex glanced at his forehead, looked away. The tablecloth was cream white; one slip and it would be stained.

“You don’t have an obligation,” Martha said gently, “to leave or stay. We trust your decision.” She shot a look at her husband. “We really do.”

They did? He wanted to— but in the end, he admitted, he did not. He felt like he was standing on a precipice, all his weight on his toes, the wind. He had no one to catch him if he fell. He needed to stop thinking otherwise, no matter how beguiling Eliza’s sweet smile was, how Hercules’ laugh was like sunlight in a boom, or how John’s mouth parted slowly when he was about to ask a question—

 _John._ He knew him, knew himself. Eliza and LaFayette and Hercules would be there to take care of them, but he—

Alex wasn’t perfect. That was what it came down to. As much as it burned him to the core, he wasn’t perfect, and if he left, John could grow bored with him, could just as easily….

But no. That wasn’t it. _I’m scared to die._ He felt it shoot him through the heart. Past how sick he knew the question was, he wondered, now strongly, whether he could live without these people. _I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to leave, but haven’t I—_

“Alexander?”

_Haven’t I always faced the things that scared me, haven’t I always plunged into the adrenaline of it, isn’t that what defines me, and isn’t that how I ended up, I ended up, ended up_

_here_

“Son, are you all right?”

He quieted at George’s hand on his own, licked his lips. “I’m not sure.” He bounced his leg, tightness gathering in his chest. The redness on his plate made him nauseous. Stabbing himself in the stomach would be easier than the admission— such a simple choice, wasn’t it always supposed to be ambition that came before these, these attachments…. “I don’t know what to do. There are certain complications that have arisen….”

“I’m sure it’s a culture shock,” Martha said.

“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “Everyone seems to hate the idea, so I suppose if I leave, that will settle it anyway.” If he left, everyone would hate him. A hostage situation. And if he stayed…

Well, if he stayed, there would be that smile, and that laugh, and that kiss, and Martha’s eyes, still fixed on him, kind but not smothering, worried but unobtrusive.

He gulped. He _wanted_ to stay, wanted it badly. Beyond morbid thoughts, he just… he wanted. Wanted so much it hurt, made him feel starved. Damn, he was getting soft.

“I could never prove Jefferson wrong if I left,” he said finally, and freed his hands to take another bite of steak.

Martha laughed. “You know… you can allow yourself some pleasure sometimes.” She swirled her wine, then sipped it again. So different from the way John drank, the way his uncle had drank. “You can allow yourself to have nice things.”

“I have nice things.” He _wanted_ nice things. Hated how he wanted.

George finally spoke again, plain and undisguised. “We’d prefer that you stay.”

Alex looked at his lap, then up again. “I can’t apologize for pursuing my goals.”

“No one is asking you to. But we wish you’d give us a chance.”

“I’ve…” He closed his mouth before protesting again. Ate another bite of steak. He scraped his fork over the plate. “Maybe.”

George’s eyebrows jumped, and he nodded slowly.

Alex looked down. “This is because of Eliza. Not because of you.”

Martha’s mouth melted into a smile.

“I can still get credit,” he said more to himself than to them. He couldn’t believe himself. “There are summer courses. Besides, A. P. credit is more useful than the CLEP tests….”

Graduating at eighteen from a public high school. He was really considering it. _Dammit._ Through his shame, he felt something pleasant settle in his chest. After this, he could text LaFayette. He could talk to people. He could talk to his boyfriend.

Alex blinked and looked up at the both of them. He smiled slightly. “Can I get dessert?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO SAW HAMILTON LIVE (itwasmeitwasmeitwasme) (Caledfwlch) it was the Best
> 
> idk if it was the night in particular or whether he always does this but lin-manuel miranda seriously looked like he was about to cry like. at least every half hour FUN FACT the hamiltome says chris and lin play "meet me inside" differently every night and they CERTAINLY DO cause yknow how they both sound angry in the official cast recording (this might be upsetting but) but but int his performance washington was still angry and yelling but alexander was really quiet (until the "son" line obv) and he looked like he was about to break the FUCK down his voice cracked on "i am more than willing to die" i thought.. that this audience would like to know this information
> 
> anyway
> 
>  
> 
>  **warning** : theos cancer is brought up in aarons pov scene (scene 4, i believe) but... its not as upsetting as it could be

John watched Alex out of the corner of his eye. He was talking to Eliza, as animated as ever, the dark green of his suit a really good color on him.

“Hey!” Martha snapped her fingers an inch from his face; John started. “Eyes here, Straighter.”

“Uncalled for?!”

“I didn’t agree to be your prom dance beard so that you could stare at your boyfriend all night long.” She crossed her arms, pouted. “Also, fix your tie, it’s all messed up again.”

“Sorry.” He made a piss-poor attempt at doing as told.

“Not even your tie can stay straight.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

She rolled her eyes, laughed. 

“And just for the record, you suck at being a beard.”

She fixed with the cuffs of her plaid suit, hmph-ed. “I should ask Eliza for a dance, just to teach you both a lesson.” She winked. “Ungrateful nugget.”

“Nugget?”

“I’m trying out new things, shut up.”

He snorted.

She slumped against the wall, laughed. “Abigail looks hot,” she added, like an afterthought.

John sighed. “Shittiest beard ever.”

—

Peggy’s shirt had a sunflower pattern, xyr shoes bright pink. Xe clung onto Thomas Jefferson’s arm with all the vigor a person xyr size should be able to muster, obviously drinking in his discomfort. 

“John!” Xe noticed him first, waved him over. “Wow, you look dandy.”

“Thanks, Peg.” He avoided looking at Jefferson. “Having fun?”

“Not really, Thomas is super boring,” xe said. “Where’s your date?”

“Martha’s at the toilet,” he replied.

“Martha Manning?” Thomas asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” John snapped.

Jefferson gave a derisive snort. “How convincing.”

“At least my beard’s a girl!”

Peggy whistled. 

Thomas looked ready to say something, changed his mind. His front pocket was glowing.

“Think your boyfriend’s texting you,” John noted. “Even though he bailed.”

“Hey, flashing lights can trigger epileptic episodes. They’re more manageable now, but— haha, that one time in— Also he hates noise. And people.” Thomas sighed somewhat dreamily. “Not that I can’t sympathize….”

John tuned him out. Across the room, Alexander caught his eyes; John nodded at him. “Hey, did you see Angelica?”

Peggy made a face. “She gave Maria her jacket and then they wandered off.” 

“Ohh.”

“Yeah,” xe sighed. “I should have invested in some earplugs.”

“I think I have some,” Jefferson mused, already typing away on his phone. 

Peggy looked as surprised as John felt. “Seriously?”

“This is too twilight zone-ish for me,” John announced. “I’ll go talk to Eliza.”

“Eliza.” “Sure.” Thomas and Peggy spoke at the same time; shared a grin.

_Creepy._

“Eliza, your sibling is warming up to Jefferson,” John said in place of a greeting. 

Alexander gasped. “No!”

“I’m sure it’s horrifying,” Eliza deadpanned, eyes focused somewhere behind him.

“Are you checking Abigail out?” 

She looked at him, raised an eyebrow. 

John shrugged. “Every girl I tried to talk to just kept looking at Abigail.”

“She does look really good,” Alexander said. “I think it’s the cream hijab. It makes her eyes stand out.”

“It goes so well with her full salwar kameez,” Eliza hummed in agreement. John felt lost. “Fix your tie,” she added. 

John groaned. “I’ve given up.”

“Let me.” Alexander stepped forward, started working his tie. “You’ve tied it way too loose.”

“Um.”

His fingers were warm, his face really close to John’s face. He smelled really nice.

Eliza was very obviously trying not to laugh.

“I learned how to tie a tie myself,” Alexander said. “Did I ever tell you that? I practiced with my uncles old one. It wasn’t half as nice as yours, though.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh my god.” Eliza was laughing.

Alexander blinked, looked up. 

_Holy fuck_ , John was going to pass out.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Eliza sing-sang. “You look very nice together.”

“Oh!” Alex stepped back. John was torn between a sense of relief and loss. “Apologies.”

“‘Ts cool.”

Alex beamed at him; John felt his face heat up.

“Anyways,” he muttered. “Having fun?”

“Yes!” Alex was bouncing on the top of his heels. “Aaron is here! He keeps texting someone, but won’t tell me who.”

“Oh?”

“Eliza says I should ask him for a dance, would that be okay with you?”

John blinked. “Um.”

“It’s okay if it’s a no,” Alexander rushed to add. “I understand why that’d be a problem.”

“Why’d you want to dance with him?”

Alexander shrugged. “He’s alone.”

Okay, that wasn’t a bad point. “I don’t know. Go for it?”

Alex looked a mix of hopeful and wary. “Really?”

“Sure.” John cracked a smile. “If he tries something I get to fight him on the parking lot.”

“No you don’t,” Eliza said.

“Will you fight him on the parking lot?”

Eliza flexed. 

Alexander bounced again. “Splendid! I bet he’s a bad dancer.”

“Why do you think he’s a bad dancer?”

“He’s not dancing.”

“Well, Peggy’s objectively terrible at dancing and xe doesn’t let it stop xem.”

Alex peeked over his shoulder.

“Xe isn’t dancing right now.”

“Did Jefferson dance?” Alex asked. “Did I miss it?”

John snorted. “Bummer.”

“Aw.” Alexander sighed, quickly recovered. “But, yes! Peggy is charming and Aaron isn’t.”

“That sure sounds like an unbiased statement.”

Alexander scowled. “Are you calling me biased?”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“I am very enamoured with you and I am capable of seeing you aren’t very good at dancing either.”

“Oh, now it’s on.” John laughed. “If I ever get my date back, we’ll have a competition.”

“I’ll be your replacement date,” Eliza offered.

“Wouldn’t that cause a stir?” John asked. “With us being exes and all?”

Eliza grinned.

Alexander looked between them. “You are both beautiful.”

“And we’ll win the dance-off.”

“We’ll see about that!”

“Your competitiveness is cute, if not a little scary,” John fought the urge to touch Alex’ face. “See if you can get a date first.”

“I’ll ask Jefferson next,” Alexander warned.

“You won’t.”

“I won’t.”

—

Martha dried her hands, wiped off the mascara smudge from under her eye. _And this is why I don’t usually wear you._ She glared at one sticky lash, made a move to exit the bathroom.

“Oh, wow.”

She froze. Outside, _right_ outside if Martha’s hearing was right, Abigail was talking. Abigail was talking and she didn’t sound very happy.

“What?” It was John Adams. Martha double-froze.

_Now’s probably a good time to let them know you’re here._

She stayed put.

“Look, John.”

“We’ve been dating for a while, right? And it’s nice?” John sounded really sad.

“Sure, but—”

“I mean, I’m not saying we should get married, yet.” _Holy fuck._ “We are obviously too young.”

“Yes!”

 _Tell him._ Martha was totally listening in to this and she didn’t even feel guilty.

“But I don’t know. I was thinking.”

“I can see that.”

“It’d be easier if we lived together for college, right?”

“John.”

“I mean, I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“And I understand, but—”

“Don’t you love me?”

“John.” Abigail sounded determined. 

Martha’s heart was going to explode.

“Abby?”

“I really didn’t want to do this before the year was over.”

_Holy shit, holy shit, holy SHIT._

“Abby, what are you saying?”

“I don’t think we should move in together after high school.”

“Okay, that’s long term planning, maybe I was rushing it a bit—”

“I don’t think we should be dating, either.”

A pause. Martha didn’t dare move.

“What do you mean?”

“This relationship… isn’t working.” Abigail’s voice was smooth, steady. “I’m sorry.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“John.”

“No, I have a right to know—”

“It’s been a long time coming and you know that.”

More silence. Martha wondered if she’d ever be able to leave this bathroom. _Who the fuck cares, John Adams just got dumped._

“So…” John’s voice sounded weak. _Was he crying?_ “This is it?”

“I’m really sorry, John.”

“No, you shouldn’t— all right.” A sniff. _Holy_ — “I need to leave.”

“Okay.” Abigail’s voice was soft again. “Stay safe.”

Another sniff, angrier. “Like you care.”

“John—”

Angry footsteps. A deep sigh; and then the doors were opening, and Martha barely had the time to step back before Abigail was staring her down.

“Oh,” was all she said. The golden details on her dress— it had a name, she told Martha, but her brain was blanking out hardcore— caught the shitty bathroom lights, glimmered back. Her eyes were glossy. 

“I’m sorry,” Martha said.

Abigail frowned.

“I didn’t mean to listen in.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, you heard.”

“Um.”

“Oh.”

Martha bit her lip, looked away.

“Was I rude?” Abigail asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“What? No!”

“It’s prom.”

“So? He was the one who pushed.” Martha realised her voice was rising, forced it back to regular volume. “Plus, not like you owe him anything.”

Abigail shrugged. “We have been together for a while.”

“So?”

Abigail laughed. “Guess you’re right.”

God, Martha was gay. “It happens sometimes.”

Abigail looked up, smiled. Her lips were painted dark red. 

Martha was going to die. She was going to die because this was not _fair_.

“I don’t want to be here any more,” Abigail confessed.

Martha nodded. “Understandable.”

“I think I’ll go home early, maybe watch a movie.” A pause. “Care to join me?”

Martha’s eyes widened. Abigail bit her lip, still smiling.

 _Was that a—_ “Sure.”

Abigail laughed. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

They were both laughing. Abigail reached out, pulled at Martha’s wrist. “Move.”

“Lead the way.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

—

Aaron grabbed another oatmeal-raisin cookie and ate it carefully, trying to avoid getting crumbs on his rental suit (and, for the most part, failing). He kept one hand in his pocket at all times, checking his phone every ten minutes. He couldn’t afford anything less.

The room was packed, but at least he was in it. The whole junior year was there— except for James Madison, naturally. He half-wished he could join in, half-desperately wanted to go home.

**aaron**

**\- yoooooooo aaron**

His heart rate jumped. He scrambled at his phone. _what?_

_\- what is it???_

**i have good news**

**\- sit down mayb????**

He promptly did so where he was, and scooted under the table. _okay okay sat_

**just got back from the hospital after those weeks of in n out**

**\- it seems like the cancer is mostly gone**

_THEODOSIA_

**dont get ur hopes too high cause u know what we thought last time**

**\- but**

**\- its mostly gone its mostly gone im just gnna have a couple more appoitnments and im on some meds but its MOSTLY gone !!!!**

**\- radiation did shit for once**

_theodosia_

**are you okay??**

_me!_ His phone was a prism; his cheeks burned. He realized he was crying. _i love you i love you i love you so much oh_

_\- praise be_

**i told you as soon as i thought possible <33**

_< 333333333333333333333333333333_

He felt shaky, exhausted, settled all at once. He felt, deeply in his bones, how lucky he was. How unwillingly he’d waste it.

**arent u at a party???? prom no less??? go go go**

_i love you im so glad_

**i know <3 i love you too baby**

**\- i love you**

**\- hah**

**\- now seriously go. have a dance for me, ok?**

_yes yes_

_- <3_

He stood up slowly, still shaky, licking his lips. He bumped his head on the table and had to try a second time, dazedly rubbing his scalp. It would need a shave soon.

"Hey."

Aaron, eyes feeling sticky, sniffed and tried to subtly rub at his cheeks with his cuff.

"Hey. Asshole."

He glanced one more time before he shoved his phone in his pocket and looked up to see Alexander Hamilton in front of him, hand outstretched and bowed comically low. He was grinning cheekily as ever at him from under his annoyingly long hair.

He half-smiled. "Alexander."

"Care to dance?"

He eyed the open palm suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because I want to, and it's a party, for Christ's sake. It's called chivalry."

"Pretty sure that's not the definition of chivalry."

"Must be a pretty bad dancer, if you need to stall this long—"

"Oh, shut up," Aaron replied gently, and, smiling, took Alexander's hand. It was soft and warm, small like his own. He let himself be led into a very strange but somehow enjoyable blend of waltz and salsa to Kanye West.

"Why were you crying?"

Aaron frowned at their shoes, knowing Alex wouldn't take the care. One slip, and they'd step on each other. "That's a very forward question."

"It wasn't an insult. It's a good look on you."

"Is that so."

Alexander huffed and twirled, then rejoined, his hips moving all the while. "You know what I mean. I barely ever see you express yourself. To be honest, it kinda freaks me out."

“Well, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, then.”

“Right. ‘Cause you only cry alone. In the dark of night. Or something. Right?”

Aaron laughed. The music was quiet enough not to hurt, loud enough to shroud their conversation. He wasn’t used to moving his hips like this. He looked back down at their shoes, though this time not so much for caution. “Actually, most times I find it difficult to cry.”

“You do? Oh, man, I wish I had that problem.” Alexander laughed loudly. It wasn’t a grating sound. “I cry, like, at least once a week. Whether I’m sad, happy, you name it. Not that there’s shame in crying!” he rushed. “But it gets annoying— especially in the middle of an argument.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “And that’s happened.”

Alex adopted an expression of pure disgust. “It’s the worst. It allows my opponents to make accusations that I’m weak, or melodramatic— and I may be the latter, but— crying because you’re angry is _hardly_ the same as crying from loss, and it is not an invalidation— negation.”

“We would know.” Aaron looked up.

Alexander’s eyes were wide, dark, his mouth parted. “Well… I suppose that we would.”

Aaron felt a shoe under his foot, and jumped. “I— I’m sorry, it was an accident—“

“It’s fine.” His face was back to its usual grin. “No harm, no foul, right?”

Aaron licked his lips. “No harm, no foul.”

“C’mon, I said we would compete with John and Betsey.” Alex dragged him across the room before he could panic or protest. “Be bad at it, okay? I want to let them win.”

—

Thomas steeled himself and tapped his knuckle against James’ window frame. The metal railing of his balcony dug into his stomach as he stretched over to drum out the chorus of “Safety Dance,” but he was used to it.

He was met by James’ bleary but un-startled face as he opened the window. “What’s the emergency? Did something go wrong at the party?”

“Nah, I just wanted to see you.”

James kept rubbing at his eyes and hair, and he was wearing one of Tom’s old sweatshirts as pajamas (which he always claimed he’d bought himself, accidentally, two sizes too big). Thomas refused to use the word _cute_ on principle, but… well. He was cute. “You could’ve just used the ‘Fur Elise’ knock,” James said, but he was already stepping back to let Tom clamber through the window just the same. “You must stop using the emergency knock when it’s not an emergency.”

“Well, maybe, but then you’d never pay attention to me.” He brushed himself off. The maneuver was more difficult than it had been in their freshman year.

“I think we both know that’s not true.” James assumed what looked like it had been his former position, propped up on his elbows on the bed with his feet kicked up. Tom watched his toes bump each other, his ankles. “Now, why did you leave the party?”

Thomas sighed and slumped onto the bed with him, assuming the same position. He knocked his heels together. “It was just too loud. My head was hurting. And I missed you.”

James leaned over and kissed his temple— quick, light, chaste, barely a kiss. It made Tom’s whole body feel soft. “Better?”

“Mmm.” He flopped on his back and gazed adoringly up at him. “Peggy said there’s some sorta evening party at the Schuylers’ place on the last day of school. For the whole MSU.”

“Do you want to go?”

“Well…” Tom gestured. “I don’t know, do you? You seem to want that and— I don’t know. I can… say sorry, I guess. And the food’s probably okay.”

James nodded slowly. “All right.”

“You don’t… mind, do you?”

“No.” James, a slight smile on his face now, settled on one arm and started absently playing with Tom’s hair with the other. “I can’t really object to good company.”

Tom grinned. “Does that mean I get stay the night?”

James paused to kiss his cheek. “If you keep the suit, it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you seriously think we would kill off theodosia cmon we dont bury our gays, or our bisexual black nerdy trans girls
> 
> alsO i know i keep saying stuff but for those of you who dont know, marta and i are in a long-distance qpr, and weve never actually met face-to-face before. but we are soon!!!! like 3 weeks from now!!!!!! and im so excited and i love her so so much!!!!!!!! and we both love Attention so if theres anything you want us to talk about or any questions you have, feel free to ask us and we might make a thing!!! or we might not make a big thing depending but still the Attention is There and would be the absolute opposite of annoying
> 
> (im on tumblr as @homosocials + @trans-hamilton and she is @the-onion-slut, or on here works fine too!!)
> 
> anyway i hope all of you are having happy, safe summers!! much love from both of us!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late we got lost in the underground
> 
> theres some implied misgendering but nothing else!!! enjoy ur gay fluff (ending note is important)

"John!" Peggy jumped towards him with enough zeal to simulate a second-hand sugar rush, curls bouncing under a flower-patterned snapback. He opened his arms really wide and squatted, half expecting xem to pull some run-and-hug film stunt; instead, xe mirrored his position, grinned.

"Is this the new hip greeting?" xe asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. He caught Eliza watching them from the doorway, waved her over. "Betsy, join us!"

Eliza did join them; hesitated a little before repeating the squat gesture. Her loose jeans were rolled up mid-calf, revealing pale skin covered in little dark hairs. Her socks had snails on them. She smelled like smoked tofu.

 _God_ , did he care about her.

"What are we doing?" she asked, voice soft.

Peggy beamed. "Starting a gang."

"Oh!"

"John just decided he'll be a turtle burglar."

Eliza laughed, shook her head. "Turglar?"

Peggy's face lit up. "He turgles!"

Eliza nodded. "Only the pretty ones, though." A smile. "He's shellow."

"Ouch!" 

"Do I want to know?" Angelica approached them; she had a spatula in hand, a grease-stained shirt on. 

John squinted. "What does your shirt say?"

Angelica undid one strap of her denim onesie to reveal the full writing. "’Not gay as in happy but lesbian as in fuck you.’"

He hummed. "Nice."

"I think it was Confucius."

"You never know with the old ones."

Angelica rolled her eyes, nodded towards the road. "Professor Washington is looking at you."

Eliza immediately jumped to her feet.

Peggy pouted. "Traitor." A blink. "Alex!"

A warm hand on the back of John's neck. "Hello."

"Hey." John beamed up at _his boyfriend_. "Squat down."

Alex frowned. "Why?"

"We're a gang," Peggy explained.

"I don't think being in a gang would look too good on his college applications," Angelica mused.

"No way, it'd show he's _hardcore_."

John caught Alex's attention again. "I'll give you a kiss if you do."

Alex raised an eyebrow, flustered. "Isn't it a little early for embezzlement?"

"How's that embezzling?" John asked.

"All we do is steal turtles," Peggy agreed.

"You were trusted with my affections and are using then to bribe me into being ridiculous," Alex said. "In public!"

"You're a nerd." John stood up (his thighs were starting to strain), pressed a quick kiss to Alex's upper lip. "Better?"

The smile spreading over Alex's face was possibly the best thing John ever got to see. Affection and pride bubbled up in his stomach; he fought the urge to look around, make sure no neighbours saw.

"Let's go inside— Peggy, stop squatting!" Angelica jokingly waved the spatula; Peggy muttered something about the fifth amendment. "My girl made lemonade, you have to try it."

"We're going to print James' face and stick it on the darts board!" Peggy added, clapping. 

John frowned. "Madison's?"

"No."

" _Ohhhh._ "

Angelica was frowning at her sibling. "Peggy..."

"Maria said it's okay!" xe said. "I didn't push at all, I swear."

Angelica didn't seem convinced.

"Is this a gang meeting?" Mulligan walked up to them. Peggy screamed his name, did the squat pause; he copied it immediately.

"You are now a turglar!"

"No way!" He was beaming. "Yo, I've got donuts."

"You are the _best_ turglar!"

Mulligan laughed, stood back up. "What's that, though."

"A burtle tur— turtle burglar, fuck." John snorted into his hand. "I didn't drink yet, I swear to god."

"Yet?"

"Peggy."

Alex bumped his arm with the back of his; John smiled back.

"Let's go in so the boys can PDA," Mulligan sighed, already moving. 

"You just want to see LaFayette," Peggy accused.

Mulligan beamed. "Maybe."

Eliza bumped into his side. "Cute."

"They are, aren't they?" Mulligan was heart-eyed. "Angelica! The shirt!"

Angelica did a spin. "Like it?"

"I got it for you!" He put his hand out for a high five; Angelica obliged. "See, Angie wears my gifts."

John rolled his eyes. "You know I cherish my 'I support my racist father' pin like no other."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I'll get you a snapback," Mulligan told him. "Something political."

Alex nodded, gravely serious. "I shall wear it to debates."

"I should hope so!"

"I'll wear it to graduation."

"Shit, I should get us matching ones."

John sent Eliza an exasperated look.

She laughed, moved so that she could get a hand over his shoulder. "Your boyfriend," she whispered.

He couldn't help grinning. "Yep."

"John!" Alex was at his side again. Squeezed in between their bodies, John was ready to overheat. "Will you let me put your pin on my hat?"

"What?" He was so warm. John was maybe gayer than he'd anticipated. "Sure. Yeah." Alex's arm pressed to his. "Do you even have a racist father?"

"We'll edit the writing a little." Alex frowned. "With a sharpie. Hercules says it'll fit the aesthetic."

"Gotta trust the guy," John agreed. Alex was smiling at him again.

John decided to stay sober.

—

"Hey, got a second?" 

Maria looked up from the pitcher of lemonade she'd been dropping ice cubes into, smiled. "Sure."

Martha leaned back, crossed and uncrossed her arms. _Fuck it_. "Is it a douche move to hook up with someone's ex the same evening they broke up?"

Maria raised one eyebrow, lips pressed together. "Hm."

Martha could feel herself sweating, tried to laugh it off. She'd picked Maria because she seemed less scary than her girlfriend but, wow.

"This scenario is maybe too hypothetical for me." Maria looked back at the pitcher. "Too abstract. I'm too simple."

Martha frowned.

"Tragic," Maria added.

"I kissed Abigail."

Maria's head snapped up so fast Martha was scared she'd get whiplash. Her eyes were wide. "Fuck!"

"Was that a bad 'fuck'?"

"You tell me."

"Maria!"

"Right, she's waiting for marriage," she laughed, leaned in. "Babe, that relationship was dead for months."

Martha felt a little sick again. "Was it?"

Maria nodded. "You're not a douche."

"I'm not?"

"Not because of this, at least." A pause. "Just to be clear, it was you who started the kiss?"

"Um." Martha frowned. "Why?"

Maria shrugged.

"Holy shit, did you make a bet?"

"Hypothetically," Maria said. "Who'd win?"

"You made a bet about me kissing Abigail?!"

"About _a girl_ kissing Abigail, but." Maria shrugged again. "Ang said she'd never initiate contact."

Martha looked away.

"Did she?"

"I'm still offended so I want fifty percent of whatever you're getting."

Maria laughed. "We bet on a kiss."

"So is that a 'no' or..."

Maria swatted at her with a mop, laughing. Quickly put it away when Angelica herself walked in.

"You won't believe who Aaron is bringing." She was buzzing with excitement. "Also, god, Abigail broke up with John!"

Maria's mouth made a little 'o' shape, winked at Martha. "Good riddance."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

Angelica laughed, sliding in next to her girlfriend and kissing her shoulder. Maria ran her fingers through Angelica's hair, rolled her eyes.

"Sap."

"Only for you."

"And small birds in movies."

Angelica shooshed her. "Secrets!"

"Your secret is safe with me," Martha promised. She felt as if she were intruding on something. "I'm gonna head out."

Maria handed her the lemonade. "Take this with you?"

Angelica was looking at her starry-eyed. "We'll catch up."

"Yeah, gotcha." She took the pitcher, headed out.

Ran into Abigail mid-corridor.

"Oh." Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. She could feel her cheeks flushing.

Abigail was looking down. Her headscarf was a pretty mint colour. "Hi."

Martha swallowed. 

Abigail looked up. "Your drink is about to spill."

"Shit!"

Abby ended up being the one to bring it out; she then walked back in, and Martha followed, lost-puppy eyes and all.

"Do you. Uh." Abigail was looking everywhere but her. "Do you regret yesterday?"

Martha's breath caught. "No!"

Abigail finally looked at her. "No?"

"I mean." _Fuck!!_ "Was I a rebound?"

Abigail looked down. Martha's heart dropped.

"Would it be bad if you weren't?"

Martha had to pause to process. "Why would that be bad?"

Abigail shrugged.

"Was I?"

"You've asked this already."

"And you didn't answer!"

Abigail leaned in, pressed a firm kiss to Martha's lips. Snapped back, wide-eyed.

"That was..." Martha exhaled. "Fucking great."

Abigail's features melted into a relieved smile.

"Also, still not an answer!"

Abigail laughed. Reacher over, took her hand.

"I just broke up with John."

"Yes!"

She was tracing shapes on Martha's open palm. "Can we take this slow?"

Martha couldn't breathe. "Sure."

"I'll probably ask you to be my girlfriend by next Saturday."

Martha felt herself grin. "Okay."

"Want to go look at the stars?"

"They're not out yet." It was four in the afternoon.

Abigail gave her a look. "We'll wait."

Martha could swear a supernova was being born in the edges of Abigail's iris. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay!" She laughed, stepped closer. Abigail hooked an arm around her waist, grinned.

"Okay."

—

“— And anyway, that’s when this guy realizes there’s supposed to be ten of them— or, like, nine, I’m not sure but anyways there’s an extra person in the cabin—”

“Peggy,” Angelica interrupted. “Isn’t it a little early for the scary campfire stories?”

Peggy pouted.

John looked up, grinned. “No, it’s okay, ‘cause we’re the only three who want to be freaked out so we’ll just get the creepies on now, they won’t kick in until the sun sets.”

LaFayette nodded sagely. Angelica looked exhausted. 

Maria walked up behind them, wrapped her arms around Angelica’s middle. “What’s going on?”

“My sibling is retelling creepypastas to a young impressionable audience,” Angelica sighed. “Again.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Creepypastas?”

Peggy nodded. “The Goatman.”

“Oh, I know that one—”

The backdoor of the house opened; Peggy recognized one of the two newcomers immediately.

“Thomas!” Xe jumped up; John gave them a scandalized look. “Shoot, gotta go say hi.”

“Do you now?” Angelica looked even more scandalized. 

“He gave me his earplugs!”

“He— what?” 

Peggy ignored xyr sister; Maria and LaFayette, at least, looked amused; walked over to the pair.

“Hi Thomas, hi Madison!”

James blinked at xem. “Hello.”

Thomas looked vaguely embarrassed. “Hey.”

“Aw, is that how you greet your prom date?”

James looked unamused. “Prom is over.”

Peggy fixed him with xyr best try at puppy eyes. Angelica said xe was bad at it but xe was good at blocking out the haters. “But the love we shared is forever.”

James raised an eyebrow, breathed a ‘ha’. Seemed almost amused.

Thomas started coughing.

“Don’t die,” Peggy told him.

Thomas gave one last cough. “I’ll try.”

“Do you want your earplugs back?”

James was now definitely amused, yup, Peggy was sure. “Earplugs?”

Thomas shrugged. “They— xe needed some.”

Peggy was nodding along to a beat that wasn’t really there. “Yeah, my sister was getting laid.”

Both boys seemed at a loss for words.

“She wasn’t,” xe added. “Did you?”

“Did we what?”

“Did you get laid?”

James closed his eyes, exhaled. “I’ll go greet Angelica.”

“ _Nodon’tleaveme_ —” Madison was already walking away. Thomas fixed his eyes on Peggy, frowned. “Well.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You do that.”

Peggy beamed. He nearly smiled back. 

Still looked nervous, though. That was good. Peggy liked keeping people on the edge.

“Ever heard of the Goatman?”

Thomas blinked. “Like, the Reddit thing?”

“Ha, knew you’d know about that.” Xe bounced on their feet. “Real talk, do you want the earplugs or not.”

“You can keep them,” he said. “What was that Reddit comment supposed to mean—”

“Maria made lemonade, do you want some?”

He was silent for a beat, watching xem. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you high or something?”

Peggy laughed, then quickly forced xyr face into a cold expression. “I’m fifteen.”

“Right.” Thomas looked down. “Sorry.”

“Haa, I’m fucking with you.” Peggy bounced closer. “But really, not high.”

“That’s good.”

“Why, do you smoke?”

“What—”

James chose that moment to return, two glasses of lemonade in his hands.

Thomas’ face went smug. “Is that for—”

“It’s for Peggy.” James shoved the glass xyr way; xe took it, smiled. “A peace offering.”

“This god is pacified.”

James’ face was hard to read but xe could swear he was having fun. “That’s a relief.”

Thomas was looking between them, chewing on his lip. “So…”

“So,” Peggy dared. No one moved. “Okay, I can tell when I’m third-wheeling.”

“You’re not—” “Thank you.” Thomas and James shared a look.

Peggy burst out laughing.

Thomas glanced xyr way. “Do you mind?”

“Don’t make out in my parents’ bathroom.”

“Yours is free-for-all, then?”

Peggy, who didn’t own a private bathroom, nodded. “Sure.”

Thomas’ eyes went wide.

James sighed. “Thank you, Peggy.”

“You’re welcome.”

He was giving his glass to Thomas. It was kind of adorable. “You’re free to stay with us, if you want.”

“Nah, John is way more fun to watch,” xe said. “But thanks.”

Thomas was drinking the lemonade, eyes darting between the two.

“Fair.” James nodded. “We’ll see you around.”

“Hopefully. I do live here.” 

John’s eyes were wide when xe returned. “What _was_ that?!”

Peggy shrugged. “He offered to sell me drugs.”

John squinted. “You’re lying.”

“Am not! He grows it on his dad’s farm.”

“His dad has a farm?”

Angelica was back. “Peggy.”

Xe ignored her. “All of his underwear is handmade.”

“Peggy.”

John looked back at the man in question. “Look, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sighing, Angelica walked away.

“Okay, I was lying.”

“No shit.”

“He doesn’t wear any underwear.”

Angelica was halfway across the yard at that point; somehow she still managed to turn around, glower in xyr direction.

John was laughing. “I don’t even want to know if that’s true.”

“Hey, I was his prom date.”

A little lemonade came out of LaFayette’s nose; John’s laugh grew high-pitched.

Angelica was back once again.

“I think I broke them,” Peggy said.

“We’ll turn them off and on again,” Angelica deadpanned. “Laurens, get up and help Martha start the fire.”

John was laughing too much to move.

Angelica sighed. “LaFayette?”

“There’s lemon in my nose,” they complained.

Angelica sighed again.

Thomas walked up to the group; James was close behind. “Is everything okay?”

Peggy met his eyes. “John wants to know if you wear any underwear.”

Angelica pinched xem. “No he doesn’t.”

“I totally do.” John wiped at his eyes. “Let him answer.”

Thomas looked between them. “I’ll go help in the kitchen.”

Angelica was shooting daggers at John. “I’ll show you the way.”

Madison spent one second looking at the trio, then went after Angelica too.

LaFayette was still touching their nose. “It burns.”

“Is she really angry?” John asked Peggy. 

“Do I look like I care?”

“Yes.”

“Shut up!”

—

“So you’re excited for the summer?”

“I guess, yeah. You?”

Alex sighed and laughed, pulling John down with him onto the grass. “As long as I can find something to do. I still haven’t given the inner city much proper exploration, and I plan on finding some sort of summer job.”

John nodded, eyes on his shoes. “You could sell kitsch to tourists.”

Alex made a face, but squeezed his hand in both of his. “I won’t stoop _that_ far down. But, if it would amuse you….”

John flashed him a smile. Alex resisted from grabbing his face and kissing him right then and there.

One of the most banged-up cars he had seen in his life pulled up to the back. He nudged John and gestured at it while it clanked to a stop. There was duct tape holding on one of the lights, and several marks that looked suspiciously like burns.

The fact that Aaron Burr stepped out of the driver’s seat should not have surprised him, but the person who stepped out of the shotgun— that was a stranger—

“Aaron, hey!” Angelica called (of course it had been her), and Aaron waved back, looking unusually jovial.

He took his passenger’s hand and led them to the grass. They had brown skin, broad shoulders, a prominent neck, and a mop of curly, dyed dark red hair. Dark skinny jeans clad their long, ambling legs. They were much taller than Aaron, and he beamed up at them.

“Hey everyone, this is my girlfriend, Theodosia. She’s visiting from Georgia.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Alex shouted at the same time as Thomas stage-whispered “ _That’s_ Aaron’s girlfriend?” and then yelped at James’ kick to his shin.

Theodosia threw up a peace sign. “Nice to meet y’all. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She squinted at Thomas. “You’re Jefferson, right?”

“Uhh….”

She burst into laughter. “Oh, man. Oh, man. And you must be James, and you’re…” Her eyes roamed and fixed on Alexander. “You’re Alex, right?”

He jumped up and tucked his hair behind his ear. “That’s me!” He shot a glance at Aaron. “What did he tell you about me?”

“Only the good stuff.”

“No, no, I want to know my reputation, please give me details—“

Aaron took her arm again and gently steered her away while she laughed again.

Alex sat dazedly back down— warmed at John’s ruffle of his hair. “That must have been who he was texting,” he said. “Oh my G-d. Aaron has a girlfriend.”

“I can’t handle the shock myself,” John deadpanned.

—

“That is too many grapes to be legal.”

“I know, I know,” Thomas said, popping a few more into his mouth. “But the feds will never catch me.”

James feigned exasperation. He was wearing short sleeves for summer, finally. At the far edge of the Schuylers’ lawn, sat on curling iron chairs, the dappled light made him look like part of a painting, modestly displayed. Pissaro, or some shit. “You seem happy we came.”

Thomas shrugged. “Peggy is… actually pretty cool.”

“I’m glad.”

He caught his eye, huffed. “Don’t look at me like that.” He shoved another grape in his mouth from the enormous bowl on the table between them.

“Like what?”

“Like…” James’ mouth was curved up at the corner. He wanted to kiss him there, light and honey and all. “Oh, screw you.”

James laughed and hooked Tom’s ankle between his legs. Tom felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t want to eat, suddenly.

“So, I had no idea that Aaron had a girlfriend,” he stammered. “Did anyone know? I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know!”

“A man of mystery.”

“Exactly!”

James laughed and threw a grape at him. It bounced off his nose. Thomas couldn’t find the nerve to pretend annoyance, too giddy.

The fence around the lawn was high. Right now, no one was close to them. Angelica seemed to be setting up a bonfire a ways off. The trees around them provided a green canopy; enclosed, but not quite alone. Tom took a deep breath and reached across the table to take James’ hand.

Their fingers linked together, easy, familiar. He rubbed his thumb over James’ knuckles. Holy things.

James had so much to do. Looking at him, he knew it. He felt like he was holding a comet in his hands. Tom had half a mind to follow him— half a mind to stay inside, bury himself, never touch again. Even now, the feel of the breeze and his cool skin on his own felt like sparks of danger.

He knew he didn’t have to think about it here. But he thought about it, and thought, and thought, and this line of thinking was so trodden-upon he could feel it twisting under his feet, worn thin and ragged and his _hand_ , it always circled back to—

He took another deep breath. The air was clean. James’ eyes were dark, placid, fixed on his. He wanted to kiss him.

Deep breath. Green.

Tom took his free hand, let his thumb trace James’ jaw. There he was. He was real. Without meeting his eyes, he leaned forward slowly, pressed his lips a little off-center. Chaste— loving.

When he pulled back, James’ eyes were alight, his mouth spreading into a grin.

—

"Well?" LaFayette raised their eyebrows at Aaron. Hercules laughed.

"You are both beautiful couples," Burr said, then sipped his glass of lemonade.

"We're not going for beautiful here," Maria reminded him. "We're going for disgusting."

"I'm in the same class as you all. Do you seriously think I'm not used to you making eyes at each other?"

Angelica frowned at the ceiling. "You have a point."

Maria threaded her fingers through Angelica's and stared into her eyes. "I would eat haggis for you."

"I've eaten haggis, actually."

"Aaron, what the fuck."

LaFayette eyed Hercules' lemonade. Hercules sighed, nodded, pushed it over. LaFayette rubbed their hands, grinning. They shouted, "one, two, three, go!" and spit into Hercules' drink, which he then gulped down.

Hercules stared at Aaron. Holy fuck, that had better be worth it.

His eyes were wide. He did look a little queasy. "I don't want to referee the PDA war anymore."

"Does that mean we won?" LaFayette exclaimed.

"I didn't say that necessarily, like I said, you're—"

"Laf's not the only one who can squirt here—"

"Okay, okay!" Angelica patted Maria on the back a little forcefully. She laughed, pinched LaFayette's shoulder and slipped in one more kiss on Maria's cheek. "I'll get some more lemonade, does anyone else want some?"

Hercules raised his hand.

"Don't think I'm touching that glass."

LaFayette looked very proud.

Angelica closed the door, and Maria turned to Aaron. Both were silent for a few seconds. Then, Maria said loudly, "Wanna see how I do shellac?"

"Yep."

"Yep."

They left for the backyard again. Hercules leaned into LaFayette's shoulder, laughing. Their fingers combed through his hair. He relaxed, and they were quiet for a few long moments. Simple. Hand, hair, breathing.

He finally spoke. "Marie."

"I hate goodbyes," they grumbled.

He laughed again, kissed their cheek. "I know."

"Petition to kill all goodbyes."

"Signed, sealed, delivered." He let the moment stretch for a little longer, then sat up. LaFayette was glaring at their shoes, a fist twisting the hem of their skirt. He ruffled their hair. "It's just a month. Then back to being powercouple. No shitty Skype connection."

"A month is a _long_ time."

"Thirty days."

"Four weeks and two days."

Hercules hazarded a smile. "One-twelfth of... _five hundred, twenty-five thou—_ "

They pushed him, finally smiling. "Don't use my weaknesses against me!"

He heart filled with warmth. "We still got a week to do the stupidest shit possible before you head out."

Their eyes glinted. "How stupid is this?"

"We'll make it a contest."

"I will win!"

He waggled his eyebrows. "We'll just have to see about that."

"You are, how you say, lame."

He beamed and tickled them. They gripped the counter and shrieked, kicked his shin.

"Unhand me, unhand me!"

"Never!"

They settled down again slowly, Hercules feeling love in bursts as he combed through LaFayette's curls with his fingers.

They met his eyes. Licked their lips. "Don't forget me."

He quirked a brow and took their hand, kissing their knuckles. "I couldn't if I tried."

—

In the hallway, Angelica hid her grin with her hand and shook herself, heart almost too full.

Some of it dissipated when she saw Thomas Jefferson slouched against the wall, staring at his shoes. She stilled, holding her hands in front of herself. The silence grew between them.

"Angelica—" "Thomas—" They both spoke at once. Angelica laughed breathily.

"Uh... you first," Jefferson said.

"No." Angelica set down her glass and shoved her hands in her pockets, holding up her chin. "You first."

His eyes met hers, then darted back down again. They were very wide, warm brown and deep-set. Glossy. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Uh," Jefferson started again. "So. So I heard you and James talked."

"We did."

"He, um... Angelica, look."

She kept her posture straight.

"I know I've given you a lot of shit."

He sure had.

"You and Maria... oh, fuck it. I can't do this, fuck it." He ran a hand through his hair, made to leave.

"Hey." She reached out. "Hey, no, I want to hear what you have to say. I won't, like... I'm not angry with you."

He halted, shuffled his feet. "I've been a dick to you."

Her heart twisted uncomfortably. "You haven't been that bad."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I have."

She bit her lip. "Did James tell you to—"

"No, Jesus, I'm like half self-aware," he muttered. "I was jealous, okay?" He finally met her eyes. "That's it. I was jealous and I hated you."

She swallowed. "Thomas...."

"I still hate you."

Well, that pang hurt more than she'd like to admit. Angelica retracted her hand, touched it to her chest where it had felt so warm before. She felt hollowed.

Thomas took a deep breath, then said it in a rush. "I'm sorry for ruining your club and I'm sorry for calling you and Maria names and I'm sorry for, um." He rubbed his face. "For, like, the past three years, basically. I wanted to... to deal with it just... on my own, and I guess... nevermind. I'm sorry, okay, okay, I'm done now, you can just hate me now. Just..."

"Hey." Angelica reached out again and touched his shoulder, really touched him. "I thought it was supposed to be you who hated me, not the other way around."

He looked up, eyes still wide and misty. He sniffed.

"And you didn't 'ruin my club.' The MSU is much stronger than that."

"Hah. Okay."

"I'll be honest," she said, letting a light laugh creep in through the heaviness. "Eliza's way better at this whole forgiveness thing than I am." She thought of her sister. Her easy smile, bright eyes. Open palms. "It'll take a little time. But I want to forgive you. I don't want to get back at you, I want to help you."

Thomas stilled, hands empty at his sides, looking oddly lost.

"I mean, isn't that why I organized the thing in the first place? So I could help you? People like us? I don't have to excuse your actions to help y—"

She was cut off by a sudden hug, warm, bony. Then it was gone as soon as it started. "Cool."

She bumped him with her fist. "Cool." She smiled.

He smiled back.

—

Eliza cradled her sparkling apple juice between her legs and squished her toes on the grass. It was just the right time of year, lush green on the pads of her feet, and a cool, welcoming silence filled her up as fireflies appeared as little sparks in the sky, glowing briefly around her like golden whispers.

“We met almost… two years ago now, right?” Maria looked at Angie, who had her head resting on her shoulder. “Yeah, ‘cause it was freshman year.”

“Mmm.” Angelica pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I’m afraid I’ve got you beat,” Theodosia said. She rummaged through her bowl of mini M&M’s. “I met Aaron when we were seven.”

“Seven! Woah, that’s a long time….”

She smiled. Jesus, she was pretty. “I know. We were pen pals, but now we just text. I gotta say, it’s a whole lot more convenient. Though I do think sometimes I was born in the wrong generation. Sexy letters are underrated.”

Eliza giggled. “I know one person who would agree with you.”

Theo raised her eyebrows.

“Alex asked John out by letter. I’ve never read it, but I know it was long.”

“You know what they say about guys with long letters,” Theodosia replied so solemnly that Eliza took a couple seconds to choke on her drink. “That was before I’d figured anything out, of course. So, you know, he was there for me when I did.” She pinched the chocolate between her fingers. “He’s so kind.”

“Is he?” Maria said. “I really wouldn’t know.”

Theodosia half-smiled. “His presence warms to you over time, like a fine wine.”

Eliza smiled at her, rubbed her heels into the grass again. “I’m gonna get some more snacks, okay? I’ll be right back.” Angelica squeezed her hand before she got up to walk along the soft lawn, still watching the fireflies dance.

By the garage, Mulligan leaned against the snacks table, messing with his phone. Eliza poked his shoulder before filling a bowl with Cheeto puffs.

“Have you played Monument Valley? It’s weirdly addictive,” he said.

She leaned over his shoulder, and he lowered his hands so she could see. “Ooh, it’s pretty.”

“I know, right? It has the best twist ending. I’ve played it, like…” He thought. “Eight times?”

“What happens?”

“I’m not spoiling it!” He laughed and pocketed his phone before slinging his arm around her.

She affectionately bonked his shoulder with her head. “What are your plans for the summer? Are you and Laf doing anything fun?”

“You know we are.” He nodded. “AKA, they’re visiting France and I’m working at Coney Island.”

“Sounds about right.”

“We make it work.”

“You really do.”

He ruffled her hair and put his hand in his pocket. “You know, I’m really proud of everything you’ve done this year.”

“Oh, I….”

“It seems like you figured a lot of shit out. That takes guts.” His eyes were warm, kind. He had the most earnest smile. “And the fact that you’re still friends with John after that mess? That’s courageous, honestly.”

She rolled her eyes. “What kind of friend would I be if I gave up when things weren’t simple, you know?”

“You remind me of LaFayette.”

She had to keep herself from physically melting. “I always admired you two so much, you know? You, just…” She giggled nervously. “Your relationship kinda helped me realize I was aro, actually. What you have….” She couldn’t keep a wistful sigh from her tone. “That kind of friendship, it’s what I want in my life.”

“That… is so awesome. Holy fuck. Can I tell them that?”

Her face was hot. “Sure.”

He winked. “May I ask if there’s anyone you have in mind? I can always be your quasiplatonic wingman.”

She ran a hand through her hair and looked back at the campfire, where Alex’s eyes were squeezed up while he laughed at a joke. He had a full-body laugh, one that rode to his shoulders and made him put his hand over his heart. John was there, too, John— she knew just how his hand fit in hers, his little quirks and habits. Love wasn’t quite the right word. She searched for the feeling…. She cherished them. They gave the fire a new light.

Mulligan was grinning at her when she looked back. He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up,” she laughed and grabbed the snacks. “I need to get back to the group.”

“Yeah, I gotta find LaFayette again. But Eliza?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with her arms, a shock of warmth spreading through her chest. “Thank you.” She looked down at her shoes. “I think I’m pretty proud of me, too.”

On her way back, she kicked her foot against John’s shin. “Can I borrow your boyfriend for a little bit?” she asked Alex.

He smiled at her. “I charge interest.”

“I’ll pay you in caramels?”

He squinted.

“Cinnamon candies.”

“It’s a deal.”

She hauled John up and towards the girls, presumably still talking about their love lives.

“Is… everything okay?” John asked.

“Oh, yeah! I just wanted to hang out with you. Last day before the summer, and all.” She playfully nudged his shoulder with her fist. “You seem like you’re doing well.”

He shrugged. Sniffed. “Don’t suppose you wanna hang out over the summer?”

She beamed. “Of course, before we travel! Feel free to bring Alex too, if you want.”

“For real?”

“For realsies.”

“Amazing how one syllable can make a whole phrase infinitely less cool.” He nudged her to show he wasn’t serious.

“It’s a talent.” She plopped down with the rest of the group. “What did I miss?”

“Theodosia’s thinking about getting an internship,” Maria said.

“Maybe working with a journalist.”

Angelica’s whole face light up (Eliza had to suppress a laugh). “You have _got_ to hook me up.”

Eliza glanced at John, whose eyes were slightly wider than normal, tongue in just the corner of his mouth. She nudged him with her foot.

He coughed. “That sounds cool. I’d like to read whatever, you know, you end up writing, or….”

“Well, I won’t be writing,” she laughed. “But sure, I’ll let you know whose coffee I’m delivering or whatever.”

He smiled. “Nice.”

“I’m heading back down after a couple days. Aaron refuses to get me pizza, says it’s too cliché. Would y’all be interested in going with me sometime?”

“Yes!” Eliza said, and bounced where she sat. “I know just the place. Tomorrow?”

Theodosia smiled. “Sure thing.”

—

Martha and Abigail were lying down on the grass plane a few feet away from the main crowd, deep in conversation. Back at the campfire, John raised one eyebrow, elbowed Eliza gently.

“Hey.” He nodded in their direction. “What’s the status report on that.”

She squinted in their general direction; her eyes widened. She swallowed her marshmallow. “Oh!”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know, but I’m excited!”

John sat back. “Don’t girls tell each other these things?”

Eliza looked at him. “Do you know when Jefferson and Madison got together?”

“Point.”

“Thank you.”

Alex was leaning into his other side; John hooked their ankles together, smiled. 

“You okay there?” Alex was frowning at the marshmallow on the end of his stick, more fire in his eyes than the actual pit. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

Wow, John’s boyfriend was the cutest. “Okay.”

The marshmallow caught fire; Alex gave a small yelp, pulled it out. 

“Hell yeah, roast them.” Peggy nodded from xyr spot.

John’s legs started cramping after a while, so he announced he’d go for a walk; Alex asked if he can join him, eyes apprehensive, and John squeezed his hand five times for reassurance.

“I hear hand-squeezes are basically the new ‘bring them home to your parents’,” Peggy told them. John flipped her a bird. Xe laughed. 

They walked a circle around the yard, back to the kitchen; John got a coke, shot the liquor cabinet a quick look. “Hey, want a drink?”

Alex’s eyes were nervous.

“Like, the non-alcoholic kind.”

A small smile tugged at Alexander’s lips. “I’m good.” 

John got two straws for his cola. Alex rolled his eyes, couldn’t hide the smile threatening to split his face in half.

“Martha and Abigail seem to be hitting it off,” John started conversationally.

Alex’ eyes widened. “Really?”

John nodded. 

“Isn’t she dating John Adams?”

“Not anymore, apparently.”

“Good riddance!” Alex leaned over the kitchen counter; John set his elbow down next to his, faced him. “Martha is a much more suitable suitor for her.”

John giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to Alex’s lips. “You’re cute, that’s all.”

Alex opened his mouth, closed it. “Oh.”

“Super cute.”

“Shut up.” Alex kissed him again; longer, this time. John felt like he was going to pass out.

“Is this okay?” Alex asked, hand just barely touching the front of John’s shirt.

John nodded. “There’s, like, an entire kitchen counter between our crotches.”

Alex spluttered. “That’s. True.”

John waggled his eyebrows. Alex kissed him again.

“Oh, hell no.” Angelica was at the doorway. She had the damned mop still. “Not you too.”

Alex pulled back, eyes wide. “Sorry!”

“Not sorry.” John grinned. Angelica fixed him with a stare. “Okay, way sorry.”

She kept the angry look for two more seconds, then burst out laughing. “Just don’t knock anything over, Jesus.”

She left. John felt his face burn.

“Angelica is so complex,” Alex mused.

“Yeah, dude.” John snorted. “Almost like she’s, I don’t know, a real person.”

Alex squinted at him. John bopped his nose.

“You’re complex too,” he added.

Alex nodded. “It appears I must compete with her in all areas of my life.”

“What other areas? Are you into Maria now?” John asked, laughing. “I mean, Madison is full of surprises too, it’ll be a three horse race for the best complex student of the generation—” He froze.

Alex was looking at him. Looked almost panicked. “John?”

“Hey, are you still graduating early?”

Something akin to relief appeared in Alex’ eyes. “No.”

“No?”

Alex shook his head.

John was aware that he was grinning. “Oh— oh, that’s cool. Okay.”

Alex was smiling. 

“How come?”

“There’s a three horse race I am to compete in, apparently.” 

“You’re just jealous of my metaphors.”

“You’re just asking for another essay.”

“Maybe.”

Alex kissed him again.

—

Alex ended up a little ways away from the fire as the sky slowly faded from pink to lavender. The colors and the flames made John’s skin look very soft, almost glowing. He liked to look at him from this distance, if only for a few moments, reminding himself that sometimes roses are best left undisturbed.

LaFayette sat down beside him, brushing grass off their skirt. It was an appropriate yellow. “Lovely, no?” they said, nodding towards the horizon.

“It is.”

“What are you thinking of?”

He found himself beyond words and looked back at John, who was apparently entranced by Angelica’s explanation of her hair spikes.

LaFayette nodded and sipped their root beer.

Alex flushed and nudged the bag of marshmallows towards them. “You want one?”

They shook their head. “Not kosher.”

“Right.” He bit his lip. “I suppose you haven’t sinned a day in your life.”

“Do you suppose?”

He turned towards them, eyebrows furrowing.

They laughed. “I remember you do not know the joy of shoplifting on the Champs-Élysées.”

Alex’s eyes bugged. “How did you get away with that?”

“I did not for long, I was terrible. Terrible.” They took a long swallow of the sweet drink.

“Why’d you steal? You’re so—“

They raised their eyebrows. Alex kept the word _rich_ on the back of his tongue.

“I was twelve and transgender and fatherless,” they finally said, shrugging, “and in Paris.”

Alex nodded. He thought back— twelve was a bad age. “Did you at least get some good clothes out of the deal?”

They wrinkled their nose. “Orange… not my color.”

“Not anyone’s color,” he laughed, and popped a marshmallow into his mouth, no patience to toast it.

LaFayette smiled at him, bumped his shoulder with theirs. “You should come with me to Yom Kippur. When our senior year starts.”

 _Our_ senior year. He swallowed. “What, are you trying to make me into a G-d-fearing man?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” They rolled their eyes.

“Well, aren’t you?” he pushed. “G-d-fearing?”

They raised their eyebrows. “Are you?”

He startled, face slack. “I…”

They laughed again. He momentarily pitied Hercules— but it was a good laugh, rich a full and personal. “Graduating with you will be good, I think. “ They caught his eye. “Dramatic, if nothing else.”

“That is what I live for.” He took another marshmallow and squished it gingerly between his fingers. “So you think it was the right decision.”

“I cannot say,” they replied. “If you want it, and you can do it, and it harms no one, then it is right.”

He bit his lip. “Well….” John was lying down in the grass, Eliza laughing and pushing at him while he tried to catch snacks in his mouth and failed. “I’ve decided now— and you can’t take milk out of coffee.”

“I cannot say,” LaFayette repeated, “but I am glad you’ll stick around.” Before Alexander could reply, their hands ruffled his hair around his face and enclosed him in a brief hug while their lips ghosted his cheek. “You are so _tiny._ ”

“I am not!” He pushed them, suppressing a laugh. His face was warm where they’d kissed it.

They got up and brushed their skirt again. “I would like to go talk to that Theodosia girl again. She is lovely.”

“Are you giving her shoplifting tips?”

They nodded faux-sagely. “Those who cannot do, teach.”

“Tell that to Dad!” Alex shouted after them, only belatedly realizing his tragic slip.

—

The sky had finally darkened. The night air was still warm, a breeze blowing through Alex’s hair. The grass tingled on his bare arms, and John’s hand was slightly sweaty, but he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be. He felt floaty and light at the feeling of John’s thumb tracing rhythmically over his own— settled.

“Hey,” John said, “the stars have come out.”

Alex tore his eyes away from him to look up, and John was right. A scattering of diamonds shone on the dark dome of the sky. He suddenly felt very small, but content; dizzy in a good way. He almost said, _You could see more back home_ , then realized the word didn’t fit St. Croix anymore. It fit New York. The night was different, but the stars were still the same.

“How do you feel about next year?” he heard John murmur. “Are you nervous?”

Alexander rolled over, adjusting so that both of John’s hands were in his own. He let his hair fall over them in a curtain when he kissed him, soft and slow. His eyes were bright when he pulled away. “Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im so sad this is all coming to an end SIKE you thought youd seen the last of us. nope we are ragging this on for as long as possible
> 
> translation: college sequel ayyyy
> 
> also side fics!! so subscribe to this series if you wanna see more gays
> 
> we also did make a q&a video and will post the link as part of the series once edited!!
> 
> we hope all of your summers are going well!!! thank you all so much for your comments, kudos, etc, we hope to see you around!!


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